


Be All That You Can Be

by NoChaser



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoChaser/pseuds/NoChaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that first night together, Justin's life took a drastic turn. Years later, Justin and Brian meet again.</p><p>This is a series of stand-alones in the BATYCB Universe. Each is a full story in itself, but is built upon the story before it. AU and not canon-compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be All That You Can Be Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that one night stand and haunting promises of ‘seeing me in your dreams’, the lives of Brian and Justin took divergent routes. Justin ends up at a place in life no one ever thought he would be, and ultimately no one is happier about that than Brian.
> 
> This is Part I in the 'Be All That You Can Be' Universe. Each part will be a stand-alone story, but will build on the parts that preceded it.

  
[](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/ronistone/media/87c570e3-acfd-48f9-bab6-e726a30faa0f_zpsddbniyhs.jpg.html)

Brian noticed him right away, standing with the familiar blond woman at the bar. He never forgot an ass, and that one was particularly unforgettable. The boy was older now, of course. He was much more filled out and defined, with biceps teasing the constraints of his t-shirt and a four-pack not even pretending to hide beneath the baby blue cloth. The hair was much shorter, nearly shorn actually, and lent an air of maturity by drawing the eye to that ultra square jaw. God, the memory of his tongue trailing the contours of that youthful jaw line... Fuck, how long had it been? Ten, eleven years?

_You can see me in your dreams_.

Brian had absolutely no idea how those words would come back to haunt him time and again over the ensuing years. He had been taken with the boy so thoroughly that he had freaked the fuck out for days. It had taken Brian months to realize that forgetting the boy was hopeless, that he had missed a crucial opportunity that could never be regained. Every trick was compared to him. And failed miserably. He had eventually chalked that one night stand up to a superb memory, relegated it to that special place one normally stores momentous events like a loss of virginity, and moved on.

And now here he was. At a backyard fundraiser for the new wing of the Vic Grassi House, talking with Jennifer Taylor. At the bar.

Brian thought he just might need a drink.

"Brian! Good to see you. But I must say I'm surprised to see you out for one of these pick-pocket affairs."Jennifer had known Brian Kinney since she helped him locate property for Kinnetik, his avant-garde advertising agency. They communicated well immediately, and her almost psychic understanding of his off-the-wall tastes led them to discover the old bathhouse together. She knew what a perfect statement it was for him. She also knew of his aversion to fundraisers.

"Hello, again, Jennifer," he greeted her as he leaned in to lightly kiss her offered cheek. "Yes, I normally avoid these events like a case of crabs, but Vic Grassi was someone very important to me. I thought it appropriate to at least make an appearance."  

Jennifer raised one brow and gave him ‘that' look. "Right. More likely, you value your balls and are just making sure Debbie leaves them where they are."

The beautiful young man shouldered Jennifer slightly as he smirked. "God, mom, you really have loosened up in your dottage."

"Mom?" Brian quirked one brow in question.

"Oh, I'm sorry Brian. Let me introduce you. Brian Kinney, my son, Cpt. Justin Taylor." The effusive pride Jennifer displayed during the introduction could not be ignored. She was extremely proud of her son. And Brian was, well, a bit stunned. The boy who had haunted him all these years was Jennifer Taylor's son? Cpt. Justin Taylor?

"Mom, it's just Justin. You know the rules." The stage whisper to his mother only confused Brian further.

"I'm sorry, honey. But I can't help being a mother. And now, I need to go and be a good board member. I'll see you both later," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Justin raised his glass to his lips, a bit stunned himself at the unexpected turn of events. He, also, had never truly forgotten the beautiful man who introduced him so magnificently to the joys of sex. And he, also, had never expected to see him again. He couldn't help the small curl of his lips as he remembered the one night the two men had shared, and he found himself struggling with the awkwardness of this moment.

The silence between them stretched on for seemingly endless seconds, but it wasn't empty space. Each man filled it with his own internal dialogue of memories, with knowing looks and overt appraisals of the other.

"You grew up well, Justin," Brian finally offered.

"I'm flattered to see you didn't forget me, Brian. It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has. The night Gus was born, wasn't it? He's almost eleven now." Brian shifted his weight to allow him to reach his wallet, pulling out a picture of Gus. Justin took the picture and smiled that luminescent smile.

"He's beautiful, Brian. You must be a proud dad." The soft look on Brian's face was all the answer Justin needed. But there was a bit of melancholy in Justin's tone as he continued. "I can still remember the look on your face that night, when you held him the first time. You fell in love." And then a muffled laugh as he added, "God! You were so fucking trashed!"

Brian pulled his lips in between his teeth and looked out, abashed, beneath the long, dark lashes. "Yeah, not really one of my better nights."

"I don't know, Brian. From what I recall - and I'm told I have an excellent memory - it definitely had to be one of your better nights." Even at 28, Justin blushed a bit at the memory of that incredible night. And Brian was reminded of one of the unforgettable things about this man. One he'd like to reacquaint himself with.

"Do you live here? In the Pitts?"

"No, just visiting with mom for a few weeks. It's been a while since I've been here. I don't even know the city anymore."

"Then, Justin, allow me be your tour guide today."

"Sure. I'd love to see the city with you." Justin graced him with another full-on blinding smile and pulled away from the bar. "Just let me tell mom I'm leaving."

As Justin turned to find his mother, Brian noticed the cane.

 

The ching of a bell on an old fashioned cash register. The pungent aroma of one too many greasy foods wafting from a half-hidden kitchen. The rough of the plastic seat, patched and held together with oddly colored duct tape. The glint of gunmetal studs that spell out an obscenity on someone's comfortably worn black leather vest. The sour-sweetness melting on the tongue from a signature lemon treat. It was all so iconic.

"God, I feel seventeen again," Justin laughed. Brian thought he had never heard a more strangely familiar sound. A sound he at once didn't know at all and yet knew intimately. Like his own heartbeat.

"You know, I came here a few times. After that night." Justin took a drink of the deliciously horrible coffee, then added another pour of sugar. "Kept thinking I might run into you." He took a second long sip.

"I'm surprised you didn't. My friends and I were here pretty much all the time back then." Brian thought of all the breakfasts, lunches and late night coffees he had shared with the gang through all those years. "Why didn't you keep coming in?"

"Life happened. I was outed and my parents found out. Dad shipped me off to some military school for the rest of the year. That was when mom filed for divorce."

"Christ..."

"No, it turned out okay. Life does that for the most part, I discovered."

"So, I couldn't help noticing. Why the cane?" Brian raised his cup toward the newest waiter for a refill, and fleetingly thought that they just weren't as attentive as they used to be.

"Ah. That." Justin reached down and patted his thigh for emphasis.  "Afghanistan."

"The fuck! Afghanistan? What the hell were you doing in Afghanistan?"

"My job. I'm Army. Special Forces. Military school rubbed off on me." The look of abject shock that settled on Brian's face brought a smirk to Justin's. He knew he didn't fit the stereotype, even with the extra muscle and bulk he'd developed over the years. It was the baby face. The bane of his existence. He had to laugh out loud.

"You are fucking joking, right?" The twink? Special Forces? Christ!

"Nope. Serious as a bullet to the femur," Justin played with his coffee cup and huffed out a small laugh, which seemed to Brian to be missing a lot of humor. "After I graduated from military school, I went to West Point, then did a tour in Iraq. After that, on to Airborne and another year finishing up Q course, qualification course. For the last four years I've been based out of Ft. Campbell, KY with the 5th Special Forces Group."

"Jesus Christ, Justin. You were just a kid! Fuck, you wanted to be an artist!"

"That was a long time ago, Brian. A long time ago and... things change. I found something I wanted more. More than painting, more than fucking... although that is a very, very close second." He grinned.

There was a definite invitation in Justin's eyes and Brian didn't miss it. He knew the look. He'd used it on more than one occasion. And no fucking way was he going to turn down an invitation like that. He stood up and tossed a few bills on the table, turned to Justin and cocked his head. "You coming?"

"I sincerely hope so."

 

Justin knew he had changed enormously over the years, but as with any good fantasy, he had imagined Brian to be the same. Of course, like all fantasies, good or bad, they rarely reflected reality. Gone was the Jeep - in its place was a Jaguar XJ sedan. Gone was the sexy fuck-pad loft - replaced by a fucking mansion twenty minutes out of town.

"Holy shit, Brian... You seem to have done well for yourself." Justin's eyes grew large at the sheer opulence that was Brian's home.

"I've made a dollar or two. I've had the house for about six years, now. Bought it for the little prince." He smirked and, damn, it was fucking sexy.

"The little prince, huh? Guess that makes you the king?" Justin hung his cane on one hook of the coat rack and walked toward Brian slowly. Brian stood stock still, aware only of the beautiful, sexual creature approaching him and the tightening in his groin. He fastened onto the now darkening sapphire blue eyes and saw the raw desire. He might have let out a small groan under his quickening breath. He couldn't remember ever being so turned on, so _needy_ for someone.

"Uh..how's the leg?"

"Healing nicely, thanks."

"That's good to know."

"Glad you care."

"I care. Wouldn't want it to limit your flexibility."

"It won't," Justin breathed as he reached out one hand to firmly cup Brian's cock. "My flexibility is just fine."

"Christ..."

One of Brian's hands curled around the back of Justin's neck, the other gripped the short blond hair on the top of his head and pulled back sharply. The sound Justin made as he watched those wet, red lips lower to devour his own could only be described as feral - raw and primal. Then there was no more watching or thinking or planning. There was only the reality of mouths and hands, of craven need and pleasegodplease, and incineration as the fire inside threatened to consume them both.

 

Justin had no idea if Brian's bed looked anything like the altar he remembered from his night in the loft. They hadn't made it that far. The clothing had come off, piece by agonizing piece, and he lay sprawled beneath this amazing Adonis on the plush rug in front of an unlit fireplace, only the softening rays of the dying day illuminating their bodies.

"You are so fucking beautiful." His hands trailed over the smooth expanse of olive skin on Brian's back, trailing down to taught hips, to firm thighs. He hissed slightly as one slick finger entered him - then two. Stretching and filling him until the burn eased and he rocked against them, silently begging...

Brian pulled back so he could see Justin's face, watch as he entered him. God, he was amazingly beautiful. Gone was the boy he had fucked so many years ago. Lying beneath him was a man, muscled and toned and sure of himself in a way that only a man could be. He reached down and palmed the swell of those amazing ass cheeks, pulling Justin up onto his own thighs, scooping one pale leg onto his shoulder. Guiding his sheathed dick with his free hand he watched the wince from the burn cross Justin's face as he entered him.

"Fuck! You're tight..." His head fell back and his eyes closed and he struggled to pace himself, to make this so good, to not give into this ungodly need he felt to just take, possess, own...

"It's been... it's been a long time," Justin gritted out... and Brian knew. He just fucking knew! No one else had been here. No one else had taken Justin like this, fucked him. The cascade of emotion that poured over Brian at that revelation stunned him. He was awed and honored, and somehow overjoyed. And this was not like anything he had ever experienced before with a man. This was important. This was special. This was... them.

"It was only ever me." He didn't mean to speak aloud and his own voice rattled him a bit. He looked at Justin, relaxing now into his slow thrusting. Watched his eyes.

"It was only ever you."

And Brian was lost.

 

Neither man wanted to move. After what Brian and Justin could only describe as the pinnacle of their sexual lives, they just fucking didn't want to move. Justin, recognizing the seriousness that could be construed from this amazing evening, and not being sure it was such a good thing at this point, spoke first.

"We should just die now. There's no way it could get better than that."

"Okay. I'll kill you first." Brian panted out a short laugh, thought about slapping Justin's ample ass, and realized he simply couldn't make his muscles work that hard right now. He settled for kissing the top of the young man's head.

"Such a self-sacrificing man, Brian," Justin replied dryly as he rubbed small circles into Brian's smooth chest.

"You're right. I am." He relaxed under the touch of the younger man, and his thoughts wandered to a comment from earlier in the day. "Justin, a question."

"Sure."

"Today at the fundraiser, when Jennifer was introducing us, you mentioned something about her knowing ‘the rules'. What was that about?"

"Military protocol... and an abundance of caution. The fundraiser could have been perceived, on some level, as a political statement. It's okay to attend them, contribute to them, whatever. As long as I don't represent the military in any capacity while doing so."

"So you stopped your mom from..."

"...introducing me by my rank. She can be a little too proud of that sometimes." Justin rolled onto his back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. Brian raised up on one elbow, cradling his head in his hand.

"Of course she's proud. I'm sure she's aware of what it's taken for you to get where you are."

"She really has no idea, Brian. She's supportive of my career, but she has no idea what it entails. I love it - wouldn't trade it for anything, but it's not an easy life."

"So... tell me."

"God. How do I even begin?" Justin relaxed his head onto the arm Brian stretched out behind him and curled into the older man's side. "When my dad sent me away, I was devastated. I thought about suicide, tried running away... all the regular angst. Then I met Col. Trent. He was one of the military science instructors at the school. He knew. Took one look at me and knew that I was a tragedy waiting to happen. So he talked with me and mentored me. In so many ways he became my father figure that year. I grew to respect him more than anyone I'd ever met - his moral character, his ethics, his responsibility, his enthusiasm and love for who he was and what he was.

He saw something in me that no one else had ever really seen. A need to be part of something bigger than myself. Yeah, I was an independent little shit," Justin laughed a little at that obvious confession. "...but he knew I needed the structure and regimentation of belonging to something. He convinced me to apply to the Point. I was smart and thrived there. When I graduated and became active duty, I discovered Special Forces. It gave me something else to strive for, another adrenaline push." Justin reached over and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his pants. When Brian handed him a crystal ashtray, he tapped one out of the pack and lit it.

"And being a gay man in the Army? That something you had to sacrifice?"

"You can't really sacrifice being gay, Brian," Justin laughed and offered his cigarette to the other man. "Yeah, I sacrificed being openly out, but not being proud. I'm proud of who I am, Brian. All of who I am. Proud of being gay, proud of being a soldier, proud of being a man... But being all of those things are equal in my book. Which one can I put on the back burner? I can't just be a soldier in private. I can't just be a man in private. I can't just be gay in private. But I can choose when and where to fight for it. It's just another battleground. Just another war to fight. And, believe me, there are a lot of us in the battle."

Brian thought about his own life, his out and proud philosophy. He thought about Mikey and his battle to stay closeted at work. He thought about his own son and what he might have to face someday, because of his own sexuality or that of his parents. And he thought about Justin and his choices. Brian wondered if he had to choose his career - what he loved to do - or being open about his sexuality, what his choice would have been. Being a success financially and in his career was every bit as important to him as being open about his sexuality. He had been lucky and hadn't had to choose between them... but... what if he had to make that choice?

Brian tightened his arm around the blond beside him. The scared virgin boy had grown into a dauntingly handsome and accomplished man. He had faced adversity, even war, and came out with that beautiful smile on his face. No way could he ever fault him for his actions.  

 

The last few weeks of Justin's leave had him healing well from his injury in Afghanistan. It also had him spending increasing amounts of time with Brian, and the more time they spent together the more they wanted to spend together. Dinners, movies, a short trip to New York for a shopping excursion... even Woody's, where Justin proved himself to be a hell of a pool player. But mostly, they talked.

Justin explained the dangers of his elite forces position and the necessarily close relationship he had formed with the members of his alpha team, all of whom knew he was gay. It had been a struggle on Justin's part to make that disclosure, but he knew a secret like that could mean life or death among a group that knew each other's snoring patterns and bowel movement schedule as intimately as they did. He had chosen to trust them with a piece of knowledge that could get him discharged and they, in turn, respected him more for that trust. He talked about his fears in the middle of the night while on mission, when he could at times feel the specters of failure and death hanging like a shawl across his shoulders. And how he still wouldn't trade his career for anything else.

Brian opened up to Justin about his childhood, something he hadn't even done with his best friend, Michael. Michael knew it from experience, from being there, but Brian had never once talked with him about it openly. With Justin, he bared his soul. He talked of the beatings, the neglect, the half-assed suicide attempts, his fears of being a father... of being _his_ father... and of his deep love for his son. He finally, after four decades of denial, admitted to the pain that he felt from the lack of love from his parents.

And Brian wondered why it felt so _simple_ , so _right_ to give all this to Justin. Yeah, he had mellowed a bit around the edges with age. He was 40 now, after all. No longer the club boy, no longer tricking the way he had in his lascivious youth. His friends had all paired up and married up and split up, just to do it all over again. Hell, even Debbie was keeping house - perpetually it seemed - with the ex-dectective. During all that Brian had remained aloof, above it all when it came to matters of love and commitment and relationships. And on the rare night during those weeks when Brian found himself alone, he wondered for hours about the timing that brought Justin back into his life just as he was ready to open up, ready to wonder if there could be more for him. It was on one of those nights, almost three weeks after finding Justin again, that Brian understood the simplicity, the rightness - and the power of the reason behind that.

Brian hadn't introduced Justin to the gang yet. These days it was hard just getting the boys together for a quick beer, much less getting together for anything important. Just as with everything else, their lives had moved on. Families and job requirements and simply getting older had pulled them apart a bit, so they took what they could get. On this Saturday night, with Justin spending a private evening with his oldest friend, Brian found himself at Woody's with Michael.

"Hey, Brian! We missed you this week at mom's dinner. Had a hot trick?" Mikey always did like a fishing expedition.

"More like lots of hot work, Mikey. I've been busy."

"Well, you could still show up at mom's. You'd better be there tomorrow or you'll have to deal with her yourself." Brian sighed at Mikey's warning. He actually knew his friend was telling the truth, and it was a truth Brian didn't particularly want to deal with. Debbie was not one to let attendance at her weekly dinners slide without good cause. You don't show up, you deal with the wrath of Deb. Simple as that.

"I'll be there but I may be bringing someone. Tell Debbie to set another place at the table."

" _You_ are bringing someone? Who? You never bring anyone to the dinner." Mikey was right. Brian hadn't brought anyone to the dinners in all the years he had been attending. All of Brian's friends who were close enough to be brought to the weekly event were already part of the regular attendance. And, of course, Brian had never done boyfriends or even fuck buddies. He wasn't quite sure where Justin fit into his life right now, but he did fit. Somewhere.

"A friend, Mikey. Someone I met years ago and who is visiting town for a few weeks." Brian hoped that would be enough to satisfy Michael's curiosity. His friend was a bit possessive toward Brian and got a bit disoriented when Brian stepped outside of some stereotype of the stud. Brian laughed sadly to himself. He hadn't been that person for quite some time. Michael, however, seemed to have missed that memo.

"Don't give me that shit. I know all your friends, Brian. Who is it?"

"Christ, Michael. You'll meet him tomorrow if he comes with me. Now, I need a drink." Brian waived over the bartender, hoping to solve two problems at once - get a strong drink and get his over-bearing friend off his case. Michael had developed a crush on Brian at the tender age of fourteen, a crush which had gone on for years. Michael had been with his husband, Ben, for nearly a decade now, but there had been an ongoing issue of Michael's obsession with Brian. An obsession which at one time threatened the otherwise steady marriage.

"Hey, boys. Having the usual?"

"Yeah, Steve. Beam for me. Double, thanks." As Steve sat the glass on the bar he leaned into Brian and nodded his head toward the front window.

"Isn't that your hot blond pool shark?" Brian's gaze followed his, and there sat the hot blond pool shark, one hand full of beer, the other caressing that of a beautiful woman. Almost as if it had been practiced, Justin turned toward Brian at that very moment, cocked his head and gave him one of those heart stopping smiles. Michael turned and looked at his friend. The tender smile on Brian's face, one he had given up to this point only to his son, gave him away. As Michael turned in the direction of Brian's gaze and saw the man sitting there - a gorgeous blond man - he knew immediately that there was some connection, something stronger than ‘an old friend in town for a few weeks'. He simply uttered, "Shit." Right then Brian knew there would be trouble with his oldest friend. Right then he didn't fucking care. All he cared about was the man smiling at him from across the room.

 

"So, after all these years I finally meet the face of God," she smirked.

"Daphne!" Justin's laughter was called into question by the blush running up his face. Brian leaned back into his chair, quirked one brow and just stared pointedly at the laughing pair.

"The face of God?" he asked.

"Shit. I don't fucking believe this," Justin mumbled and hid his face behind his hands for a couple of moments before deciding to just man up. "God. Remember, Brian, I was _only_ seventeen!" he whined and laughed again.

The woman Justin had introduced as his best friend, Daphne, decided to fill in all the details. It was, after all, a best friend's job.

"The day you dropped him off at St. James, after what I later learned - in detail - was one fucking unforgettable fucking experience, our Justin here was in a kind of fugue state all day. His body was there but his mind definitely wasn't. He said, and I quote ‘last night I saw the face of God and his name is Brian Kinney', end quote." Brian snorted, Daphne laughed her brilliant laugh, Justin dropped his head onto the table, and Michael...well Michael was simply trying to pick his jaw up off the floor. He remembered that kid. This was that _twink_! One of Brian's tricks!

"Daph, you wound me." Justin dramatically mimed a stake being driven through his heart. "And on that embarrassing note, I'm going to take a piss. It seems I've lost a bit of my pride. Perhaps I left it in the bathroom earlier." Justin reached for his cane and walked away from the table, running his hand through the hair at the back of Brian's neck. Brian leaned into the touch.

"He's that trick! That twink you picked up the night Gus was born? This is the guy you plan to bring to mom's tomorrow? Christ, Brian..."

"Michael..." Brian's tone held a strong warning for his old friend.

"Brian... he's a trick. You fucked him, you moved on. Let it go." Michael's crush where his long time friend was concerned was glaring.

"Are you _sure_ this guy is a friend of yours, Brian?" Daphne was stunned and angered by the behavior of this obnoxious man.

"I'm his best friend," Michael retorted angrily.

"Well, you sure as hell don't act like it." Yeah, Daphne was pissed.

"Brian, he's an old trick, and a gimp, for Christ sake!"

"Michael, shut the fuck up!" Brian himself was angry and embarrassed by the behavior and cruel words of his friend. "Who the hell do you think you are? My mother? I don't think even she would have behaved this badly."

As Justin returned to the table he heard the raised voices and noticed the tension in both Brian and Daphne.

"Hey. You're drawing quite an audience here. What's going on?" he asked as he placed his hand on Brian's shoulder.

"Oh, nothing. Michael was just leaving." Brian squared his gaze on Michael across the table, letting him know he needed to leave. Now. Michael returned Brian's look, stood up and left without a word.

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table for a few moments. Suddenly, Brian stood and reached out both hands for Justin and Daphne.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a game of pool. How about it? Daphne, you and me against the shark boy?" with his tongue in cheek, Brian's look gave an apology he didn't voice. The smile Daphne gave him almost rivaled Justin's sunshine smile.

"You're on, Face. But you do know he can still beat us both with his bum leg _and_ one arm tied behind his back."

"Fuck, yeah," Justin boasted with a snort, heading for a pool cue.

 

Brian had been awake most of the night going over the disaster of an evening with Michael at Woody's, trying to make some kind of sense of things. Michael had always been possessive of Brian. That was a given, a known quantity. And Brian was honest enough with himself to recognize his own contribution to the situation. He had, in many ways, led Michael on. Not with promises of some kind of relationship, but simply by not having anyone else in his life that Michael had to compete with. Shit. He realized how very unhealthy that sounded, even to himself. Why would Michael, as a friend, feel he had the right to compete with anyone in Brian's life? Because Brian had allowed it. He had allowed Michael to own the only emotionally supporting role in Brian's life - to be the most important person to Brian, other than Gus. Brian had needed Michael. Michael had needed Brian. It worked.

Until it didn't.

 

Brian looked over at the man sleeping next to him. The pale, taut skin over well muscled arms and chest. The sensual pouty mouth that brought pleasure to Brian in more ways than he had ever imagined possible. The white blond hair, grown out just a bit more in the last few weeks, shining against the dark blue of the bed linen. The trim, narrow hips bearing bruises from Brian's own hands from their vigorous lovemaking. He couldn't call it fucking. That didn't _begin_ to describe the experience of sex with Justin. Even at their most primal, most animalistic, there was a connection that brought their sex to a higher place than the most intimate fuck he had ever had with another man. It was lovemaking.

Love-making.

As Brian stared down at the surprisingly youthful face, looking even younger in sleep, devoid of the worries and tensions of waking hours - as his fingers traced the soft skin of that square jaw, the velvet of closed eyelids, the sweet pillows of those full lips - he knew he was falling.

Had already fallen.

He was in love with Cpt. Justin Taylor. The fantasy of Justin as a boy was surpassed by the reality of Justin as a man.

Brian spooned into the back of the beautiful man in his bed, wrapping his arm protectively around him, and closed his eyes to sleep. He fell asleep with the hint of a smile touching his lips, his last conscious thought was that reality was oh, so much sweeter than fantasy.

 

Debbie was surprised to see Brian walk into her house with a... what? A date? Sure looked like one to her. Brian had never brought anyone to her dinners before. For that matter, she didn't think Brian had ever taken anyone, besides Michael, _anywhere_ before. But this... this looked different. This was more than a friend. The looks they gave each other, the small knowing smiles. The quiet word in the ear. A casual, possessive arm around a yielding shoulder, or a light hand on the center of the back. And she hadn't missed the cane or the way Brian had carefully placed it on the coat rack for the young man.

Yeah, this was more than friendship. What it was she wasn't quite sure. But it was a hell of a lot more than anything else she had ever witnessed with Brian. And her heart was jumping for joy! It's about goddamned time! The man is in his 40's, for Christ sake. About goddamned time.

"So, Justin, how long have you known our Brian?" She would get to the bottom of this mystery, one question at a time, if necessary. Since he had taken it upon himself to help her finish up the meal, she would take advantage of every second.

"Well," Justin laughed, "...that's a tough question to answer."

Shit. He was going to play that game, was he?

"Now, kid, I've been known to ask a few tough questions in my time, and that wasn't one of them. Believe me."

"Are you badgering the kid, Deb?" Justin rolled his eyes at Brian's use of the endearment ‘kid'. Debbie using it was one thing. He could be her kid. But Brian? Well, when you are sleeping with someone, ‘kid' isn't exactly what you want them to call you.

"Hey, old man." There.

"I'm not fucking old!" Brian responded in mock anger, slapping Justin's ass for emphasis.

"I'm not a fucking kid!" To prove the point, Justin stuck his tongue out at Brian.

"No," Brian laughed, "...you're definitely not that. But I fucked you when you were." He whispered the last part close to Justin's ear, the heat and moisture from Brian's breath instantly creating a tightness in his jeans.

"To answer your question, Deb, Justin and I met outside of Babylon when Justin was just seventeen. Now, eleven years later, we meet again. He's Jennifer Taylor's son."

"No shit? You're Jen's kid?" Carrying the last of the dishes out to the large family table, she ordered everyone to sit and eat or get out. No one left. They knew better.

Justin sat next to Brian with Ben on his other side. Michael, still stinging from the episode at Woody's the night before sat next to Ben. So far he was avoiding any contact with either Brian or Justin. Ted and his partner, Blake, and Emmet and his partner, Drew, sat on the opposite side of the table, with Debbie at one end and her boyfriend, Carl, at the other. For the first time Debbie could remember, everyone had a partner, or date, with them.

"Everybody, in case you haven't met him yet, this absolutely gorgeous thing next to Brian is Justin Taylor, Jennifer Taylor's son."

"Um, thanks Debbie. Good to meet you all." As Debbie continued to introduce him around the table to everyone, she saw the smile on Brian's face. Yeah, this was something more.

"So, Justin," Emmett decided to break the ice. "...how did you meet Brian?"

"Well, initially, we met almost eleven years ago. Outside Babylon the night Brian's son was born. I actually went to the hospital with Brian and Michael."

"Oh, dear Lord! I remember you. You were just a kid! So, has our own Mr. Kinney been keeping you tucked away for himself all these years?" Justin laughed when Emmett added, "Not that we could blame him. You are beautiful, baby!"

"Actually, Justin and I became reacquainted a few weeks ago, at the fundraiser for the Vic Grassi House. Jen is on the board." No one missed the meaningful look that passed between the two men as Brian spoke.

"What do you do for a living, Justin? We haven't seen you around here. I'm sure we would have noticed. Are you visiting?" Ted took up the mantle of inquisition for the newcomer.

"Jesus. What's with the interrogation? Let the man eat." It was an empty demand on Brian's part and he knew it. He was well aware that this would probably happen when he brought Justin to meet the family. It still rankled him.

"It's okay, Brian. Believe me, if my mom didn't know you already, you'd be put through the wringer with her, too." Justin was well aware that ‘meeting the family' was a big fucking deal for anyone with Brian Kinney. Turning back toward Ted, he answered, "Actually, I'm visiting my mom for a few weeks. I'm on medical leave from my duties in the Army."

"Christ! You're in the Army?" Debbie was stunned. That wasn't exactly the career of choice for a gay man.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Cpt. Justin Taylor, U. S. Army Special Forces." Brian didn't even attempt to hide the pride in his declaration. He was fucking proud of this man.

"Special Forces?" Michael finally chimed in.

"We used to call them the Green Berets, Michael. The elite of the Army," Carl explained. "I was in the infantry, Justin. That's quite an impressive position you hold, an officer in Special Forces. Quite dangerous, as well."

"It can be dangerous at times, Carl. My leg can attest to that. I was injured in Afghanistan during my last deployment. But my team is extremely well trained and we work well together. They had my back, and we all came home alive."

"Jesus..." Debbie made the sign of the cross.

Michael was speechless. This... this was the twink from all those years ago?

"How... how long have you been in the Army?" 

"Six years, Michael." Justin's thumb began a familiar pattern of twisting the ring on his right hand. "I graduated West Point and immediately went active duty. I've been with the 5th Special Forces for the last four years. Give or take a year for training." He grinned sheepishly at his own equivocation.

Brian called a halt to the questioning, telling the family to fuck off with their twenty questions, so they could actually eat, for which Justin's rumbling stomach was quite grateful. The conversations continued, however, in a much more informal manner. Listening to this bright, articulate and accomplished man beside him, Brian was once again amazed at how fate had timed everything so well, making sure he was ready and then setting Justin in his path. But as he continued to listen to the words, the experiences, the beliefs of this man he was growing to love more and more, he knew the fates had little to do with this. Justin wasn't just an incidental pawn in some galactic chess game, placed in just the right spot at just the right time to optimize love in Brian Kinney's life. Justin wasn't important _because_ Brian was ready. Justin was the very _reason_ Brian was ready. It was all him.  And at that very existential moment all Brian wanted to do was tell him.

 

They both knew the time was coming.

They both knew exactly the date on which it would arrive.

But when it finally came, neither man was prepared.

Much like Brian, Justin had fallen painfully hard. And it was a fall he never expected to suffer. In more ways than one, his life was anathema to relationships and he had thus far avoided them like a plague. He couldn't be out in his job. Had to live his life under the radar. Couldn't hold his lover's hand in public. Couldn't post his lover's picture prominently on his desk as other men could do. Couldn't be greeted with a happy lover's kiss upon the return from a dangerous mission. Sure, they had all heard the rumors. There would be a repeal of the hideous DADT. But there had always been rumors, ones which never came to fruition. 

Then there was the danger of his job. It was potentially fatal. Personally he was always prepared for that eventuality. His affairs were always in order - documents drawn and signed, beneficiaries named. But he'd never found anyone he remotely wanted as a permanent fixture in his life. Until now. And it scared the shit out of him. Not for himself, actually, but for Brian. Could he ask that kind of sacrifice of a man like Brian Kinney? Ask him to sit at home waiting faithfully while Justin was off on some mission or other? Hidden away - some closeted gay incarnation of the oh, so loyal Penelope anticipating the return of her Odysseus? Never knowing if he would even return alive, or perhaps so damaged the burden of care would be overwhelming?

No. He couldn't ask that. It simply wasn't right.

Brian was too vibrant, too vital a man to play second string to Justin's career or act the long-suffering housewife. And for the first time in his nearly thirty years, Justin knew how a broken heart felt.

 

Soft morning light filtered through the wide panes of the bay window in the master bedroom. It had been raining all night, slowing to a mere drizzle in the early dawn. Neither man missed the irony of the tear-like rivulets running down the smooth glass. They had made love all night, teasing and taunting each other for hours, withholding, releasing... Memorizing sights and tastes and textures -- the erotic curve of a spine arched in the pleasure/pain of orgasm; the sweet pungency of a lover's cum spilling onto a welcoming tongue; the sensual sleekness of smooth, taut bodies beneath roughened fingertips... Each man stored those moments, tucking them away to be retrieved and remembered, to be loved and anguished over.   

Brian's hands cupped the sides of Justin's face and just held it as he committed each feature to memory. His soft hazel eyes held onto heartbroken blue ones and he said the words - the ones he had promised never to allow himself to speak.

"I'm in love with you, Justin."

And the world didn't end.

"I know," the words cracked as he spoke and a strong, calloused finger dragged slowly across Brian's lips. "I'm in love with you, too."

And it was enough. For now.

 

They drank the strong coffee that had brewed as they showered. Justin had already packed his bag which was now leaning against the stair riser near the front door. Justin was ready to go, but he wasn't prepared to leave. He still had twenty or thirty minutes before he needed to leave for the airport and back to Ft. Campbell. He sat the cup down and pushed himself off the counter. Christ, he felt like an inexperienced teenager right now, nervous and unsure of what he should do or say as he stood still in front of this man who had come to mean so much to him.

Brian had no fucking idea what to do or say, either. So he drank in the vision before him. This was the first time he had seen Justin in his uniform. Gold trimmed blue trousers tucked tightly into spit shined combat style boots and hugging that phenomenal ass; black belt cinched perfectly around that narrow waist; starched and creased white shirt adorned with more ribbon and flash than Liberty Avenue during Pride week. On the side chair Brian saw the green beret indicative of Justin's assignment laying folded across the short black jacket needed to ward off the last of spring's chill. And the cane resting along the side. It would stay here with Brian.

"You look fuck hot in that uniform, Captain."

"I know," Justin teased. "Why do you think I joined the Army?" He grabbed the back of Brian's hair in a tight grip and buried his face in the man's soft shirt.

"God," Brian breathed out, "...I don't want you to leave."

"Brian, I..." Brian could feel the young man's body tensing.

"Don't. Just...don't." He kissed the top of the blond head and whispered, "I'm not going to let you out of my life. You do know that, don't you?"

Justin pulled away from Brian's arms, pacing a few steps before he turned back to look his lover squarely in the eye. "You don't have any idea what kind of life this is, Brian. This is no life for a relationship, no matter how much I want to have one with you. Christ, I've never been so torn in my fucking life!" He backed up to the counter, collecting his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "Brian, I can't even publicly acknowledge you! And I could be sent to god knows where for god knows how long at any time, and you would be have no choice but to sit, waiting in the wings to hear if I'm alive or dead! I can't do that to you! I won't. I chose this life. You didn't."

"I'm fucking choosing it now!" Brian yelled his frustration. "Do you think for one fucking minute that I'll worry less about you, that somehow I'll suffer less about you being deployed somewhere just because we don't _say_ we are in a relationship? That's bullshit, and you know it! I love you, Justin! I have never been in love in my life and I. Love. You. And I'll worry and I'll suffer either way. But one way will have some promise. The other way wont." 

Brian watched the indecision play on Justin's beautiful face. He walked over and gently kissed him.

"We can't undo this thing, Jus... It's always going to be there. Now, you have to decide if we deal with it together... or alone."

 

The goodbye was bittersweet. Brian carried Justin's bag into the airport as any good friend might. He hugged him cordially as any good friend might. He shook his hand as any good friend might.

And, god, he wanted to kiss him just one more fucking time!

But he stood there and watched as Justin walked toward security. He watched as Justin looked back and caught his eye for a long moment. And when he could no longer see the blond hair and the beautiful form in the government's clothes, he turned and walked to his car.  To wait for Justin to decide.

 

Spring melded into summer and Brian became closer friends with Jennifer Taylor. He shared his feelings about her son, she shared her fears for his safety, and Brian began to watch the news a bit more closely. Justin didn't call him the first month. Jennifer kept Brian up to date. He was continuing to heal and was back on an active work load, but not assigned to any missions at this point. His alpha team was grounded but continued to train until reassignment. Justin was studying a new dialect of a Middle Eastern language he already knew.

Brian continued to thrive at work, throwing himself even more into his business. It helped pass the time. He tricked a little in the beginning, but it was empty and left him with a longing that hurt more than the sexual frustration that led him to the trick in the first place. He drank a little more some nights, a little less on others. He flew Gus from Canada to spend the summer with dad, and told him about a wonderful man in the Army he would like him to meet. On the Fourth of July, Brian attended his first ever Independence Day Parade and fireworks. He might have teared up just a little with pride when the band played the National Anthem.

And yes, he worried and he suffered. It was inevitable.

 

It was in the evening on that July 4th when he received the email. Just two lines, but it said everything.

_I've decided I'm a fool._

_Can I call you tomorrow? - J_

 

They spent four days together in a secluded chalet in the Smokey Mountains. They made love, spectacularly. They talked during long walks among towering pines. They talked about Brian's summer with Gus, about Justin's summer with indecision. They discussed the mechanics of negotiating a relationship over a long distance, with one of them in the Army and danger as an ever present possibility. And they made love again, with words of caring and commitment and promise on their lips because they both knew this was different. So very different than anything either of them had known or felt or imagined before.

Then Justin said it. On their last day while they were readying to leave for the airport, he said it.

"I'm being deployed again. A rescue mission. No longer than six weeks, I expect."

It was so matter of fact that Brian couldn't doubt Justin's certainty. This would be okay. It would have to be. God, he hoped it was.

"When?"  

"Tomorrow night. The phone call I took earlier... verbal orders. We never know far ahead. Not for this kind of mission and I won't know the details until I'm back on base."

"Will you be able to keep in touch?" The churning in the pit of Brian's stomach threatened to erupt.

"No. No contact."

"Okay. Just remember... you have a hot older man waiting for you in Pittsburgh. Don't stay any longer than you have to." The levity felt flat. But he had to attempt it.

"Goddamn, I love you, Brian. I promise. Not a minute longer than necessary."

The date was Thursday, July 21, 2011.

 

On the morning of Friday, July 22, Brian told Cynthia he was staying home from work. He didn't tell her why.

Friday afternoon, Jennifer Taylor came over with beer and sandwiches, and a totally inappropriate movie tucked into her bag. They actually laughed a little once or twice.

Friday evening, with Jennifer snuggled away in one of the guest bedrooms, sleeping off a little too much beer and beam, Brian sat in front of his computer going over the email he had avoided for the day. And... there it was.

_Leaving in a few hours. Remember - not a minute longer than necessary. - J_

He almost missed the link at the bottom of the email. As he began to read the article from the New York Times his smile grew because he knew what Justin was telling him was so much more than the news in the article. When he reached the third paragraph, he laughed out loud with relief... maybe it could really be over.  

_"As of Sept. 20, service members will no longer be forced to hide who they are in order to serve our country," Mr. Obama said in a statement._

He was repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. Christ.

 

Sixty days. He still had heard nothing from Justin. Jennifer had contacted his commanding officer only to be told that he could give out no information. At least there had not been a condolence knock at her door.

As he sat in the diner, the door chimed but Brian, having heard it a million and one times before, and still feeling the pain of missing the man he had fallen so deeply in love with, didn't bother to look up from the contract he was pretending to review. He didn't bother to look up when first one, then another appraising gasp sounded from the booths cradling the two dozen or so other occupants who had settled in for their routine morning sustenance. He didn't bother to look up when the low whistle of appreciation came from the cook in the half-hidden kitchen. Then he saw the elegant shine on the toes of the black shoes at the edge of his booth, and the soft fold of the medium blue, gold trimmed trousers that brushed the top of that shine. He raised his eyes in increments, matching the increase in his heart rate and viewed the crispness of the crease gracing the front of those trousers and the powerful thighs they encased. He saw the hem of a dark blue coat with brass detailing, and the rainbow of ribbons on the left breast. And then he saw the smile breaking on that pale skin, that too short blond hair mostly hidden beneath a green beret. And his heart was beating so fast he could almost see it pushing his own jacket out in front.

"Brian Kinney?" The authority in that voice went straight to his dick and he was instantly hard as steel. He wasn't sure how he managed to smirk and gasp as the same time, but he did.

"I'm Brian Kinney," he breathlessly played along.

"Today is September 20, 2011..." the authoritative voice continued slightly louder, marking everyone inside the diner with its clarity and force. "...and I would like to say something to you, and I hope like hell that someone here has a damned video camera on their phone to get this on record." At the puzzled look on Brian's face, Justin straightened his spine and pulled back his shoulders.

"Go on," Brian stated simply, a bit bewildered.

"I am Cpt. Justin Craig Taylor, U. S. Army, Alpha Co., 2nd Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group." Justin paused, relaxing his posture only slightly, and reached out to caress the face of the beautiful man in front of him before completely taking Brian's breath away. "And I fucking love you."  

The catcalls and wolf-whistles overwhelmed the diner, but neither Brian nor Justin heard them. They couldn't hear anything above the thumping of their heartbeat as they each tried to consume the other.

Brian would find out later that Justin had been back in the States for a few days, in debriefing with his command, but he wouldn't care. All that mattered - all that would ever matter - was that Justin was here. The most beautiful, the bravest, the best man he had ever met was _here_. With him. And he was never going to let him go.


	2. Moonbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the 'Be All That You Can Be' Universe. 
> 
> "There are just some things that should never, logically, exist in this world, Brian Kinney. Good kids kicked around or tossed away for being who they are. Hate-filled Christians. Diseases that eat away at the very soul of a being. They just don't make sense. Then again, we have the platypus. Flying fish. A midnight moonbow. Trained soldiers with soft touches and artistic souls. They make not a shit's worth of sense, either. But exist they do. And I'll deal with the bad if I can find that little bit of good, and thank god for it."
> 
> Two weeks in the 'Be All That You Can Be' universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You need to read Be All That You Can Be in order to understand the back story for Moonbow. This is an AU and does not follow canon.

 

[ ](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/ronistone/media/db600ee3-7fc0-4d56-9774-39aeaecb09e8_zpsd8wo2zaa.jpg.html)

   He crushed out his last cigarette beneath the heel of his boot and grimaced at the feel of the grit rubbing the skin of his foot. In this country there was no avoiding that particular phenomenon, uncomfortable as it was. He was hot and grimy. Sand and dirt seemed to have corkscrewed its way between every fold of his cammies and it had been days since he'd been able to take more than a cursory shower. His hair was more dirt than blonde and his head itched like the skin under his eight day old growth of beard.

   And, Christ, he was tired.

   There was nothing like the exhaustion that met him at the end of any mission. His team worked their asses off every single time they were called upon, even though in this sandbox part of the world it sometimes seemed pointless.  They were dedicated and expertly trained, though, and put everything they had into their life's work. But it was more than work - much more. It was their _life_ , who they were. Brothers and sisters in arms, what they did defined them - put the blood in their veins and the breath in their lungs. They were soldiers. As team leader, Justin gave orders and followed orders and hoped and prayed that he made the right calls. That they would all see another daybreak and make it home to hear their children's laughter, inhale the comfort of their mothers' scent, feel their lovers' skin one more time.   

   At day break they would head out to do just that. Somehow this part of any deployment was the one that scared him the most. He never slept on this last night of a mission, always conscious of the very real possibility that this last few hours could _be_ his last few hours. That some local with a lucky aim or some poor unlucky twelve-year old with a bomb strapped to his chest would accomplish what trained forces hadn't been able to.

   He lit another cigarette, rubbed a little of the sand from his face and thought of home.

::

   Gus fidgeted and Brian scowled. They'd been sitting in the family waiting area at Ft. Campbell for over two hours, waiting for word that the buses bringing home loved ones were arriving. The air conditioning, if that's even what it could be called, was straining to cool the auditorium-like room and its failure did nothing to ease the nervous excitement that rolled through the room like a tidal wave.

   Everyone's nerves were stretched thin.

   Mother's struggled with infants who were nowhere near happy with their upended schedules and tried to mollify older kids whose energy levels were on high alert, an unfortunate byproduct of the cookies and candies that had originally been intended to placate them.  

   Brian looked around the room, not at all surprised at the predominance of women. A few men - fathers and brothers, most likely - but for the most part the adults waiting for the returning troops were women. Wives and mothers. The keepers of hearth and home. A wide-ranging assortment of Penelopes awaiting a returning Odysseus, as Justin had once referred to them.

   This was the first time he'd actually been able to be present on base for Justin's return from a mission and he felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable. It wasn't the waiting, although god knows that was uncomfortable enough, but the brave new world-ness of it. It had been less than two years since the repeal of Don't Ask/Don't Tell and more than a remnant of discomfort with openly gay soldiers remained. Yet here he was, waiting for his male partner with all the other spouses - waiting to hold him again and feel his heartbeat, see his outrageous smile. Kiss him again. Assure himself that Justin was indeed alive and whole. He knew it would raise some eyebrows, perhaps even some blood pressures. That pissed him off and made him proud at the same time.

   They had discussed it, exactly what the protocol should be for them when this occasion arose. No over-the-top displays. No groping of the magnificent ass. No throwing Justin down on the floor and fucking the shit out of him in public. Brian chuckled to himself, remembering the repeated ‘demonstrations' of all the ‘cannot' behaviors. But, by god, he _was_ going to kiss the hell out of the man! Eyebrows and blood pressures be damned.

   "Dad?"

   Brian looked over at his son. It still stunned him, this sense of _rightness_ that reverberated through him when he thought of being a father. It still surprised him when he realized just how much his son loved him. Respected him. And how much he loved his son. It had taken some time, but little by little he had buried the haunting specter of his own childhood, had learned to accept and proudly wear the mantle of fatherhood. It was one of a small handful of things that had been worth growing up for.

   The boy was unarguably beautiful and as cocky as his father had been at that age. At almost thirteen, Gus was struggling to act like the man he wanted his father to see him as, but he was still so much of a child. He had, for the most part, behaved himself admirably during this seemingly endless wait, although sitting still for a boy his age was never an easy thing. Brian couldn't have been prouder of the young man.

   "Gus?" His son had recently taken much offense to the nickname of ‘Sonnyboy', and Brian did his best to avoid it. Broke his heart a little to know his son was growing up so damned fast.

   "They just made an announcement. The buses are coming in." The grin on Gus' face could almost rival Justin's.

   Brian hugged his young son and stood quickly. He had been so caught up in his thoughts about Justin's return that he'd completely missed the announcement and increased activity in the large room. Children were jumping up and down, women were straightening their clothing and combing their hair, banners were being unfurled and welcome signs were being hoisted. His own chest was pounding a mile a minute.

   Their soldiers were coming home.

::  

   He felt the slight jerk and heard the hiss of the hydraulics as the bus pulled to a full stop in front of the expo style building that served as community center at Ft. Campbell. It hadn't been a long ride from the airport, but it was a fairly silent one. The quiet following the seemingly incessant waiting to board, as well as the rhythmic hum of tires on tarmac, had lulled him into a light slumber. It was a complacency he didn't often let himself fall victim too while he was in uniform. But he'd been through this routine more times than he cared to admit over the short span of his career and it always had an aura of home about it. As he hitched his ruck to his shoulder, he couldn't help but glance out the shaded window to his right. Couldn't help noticing the sea of indistinct faces - the wives/lovers/families waiting impatiently beyond the cordon for a glimpse of their loved one. Couldn't help the automatic frisson of sadness that ran through him as he recalled the returns when none of those faces were searching for him.

   This had always been a bittersweet moment for Justin emotionally, this coming home. On a couple of occasions, of course, his mom had been able to greet him as he got off the bus, but Ft. Campbell was quite a distance from Pittsburgh and she wasn't often able to make it. For the most part his return was always a pretty solitary experience. This time... _this_ time it would be different. This time Brian would be meeting him, and his gut churned a little from the excitement. Shit. Here he was - a nearly thirty year old Army officer getting fucking butterflies! Yet he couldn't stop the grin that grew wide across his face when he stepped onto the concrete, or the urge to quicken his pace just a bit as the sea of faces became less indistinct, as he homed in on the tall, lithe figure looking so awkward in the mass of bodies now just a few feet away, waiting to see an answering smile flickering in what Justin knew were the most amazing hazel eyes.

   _Now_ he was finally feeling home.

::

   God. Over six months.

   It had been over six months since Brian had last seen Justin. Six months of worry and loneliness and fucking _fear_. Yeah, there had been the occasional email and phone call, but, hindered by military regulations and an unfortunate lack of privacy, those infrequent encounters had been... sanitized to a great degree. It had been difficult. When Justin had stepped off the bus, Brian realized just exactly how much of an understatement the concept of difficult was.

   He'd stood shivering under the overhang at his own front door six months ago watching the fading taillights of Jennifer Taylor's Prius retreating down the long driveway. His body felt so goddamned empty, his soul felt a fatigue he knew wouldn't fade until Justin returned. "I'm gonna be gone for a while, stud," Justin had reasoned. "I don't want the image in my head of you blending into the masses at some impersonal airport. I want to see you here, in this doorway, this house... your bed head, your wife beater... home. I want to be able to kiss you goodbye the way we still can't in public." They both knew, even with the repeal of DA/DT, that PDA's between two men were still frowned upon heavily by many. Prejudice doesn't disappear with the stroke of a presidential pen.

   So Brian watched Justin leave from the safety of his own front portico.

   Justin had been on a couple of short missions during their time together. The nature of his particular job in the Special Forces tended to make his deployments short term. The fear was always there, of course. Fear that he would be injured - or worse. This hadn't been a rescue mission, however. This time, the powers-that-be had needed the particular grasp of language and the culture that Justin's team possessed, needed them to act the intermediary between the opposed cultures in this period of social reconstruction. Justin's talents, particularly, made him a rare commodity, and made the deployment time much longer. The supposedly peaceful purpose of the mission didn't lessen Brian's anxiety, however. Regardless of the political hype of cultural conciliation and the media bullshit of lessening animosity, Afghanistan was still a war zone.

   And people died in war zones.

   Yeah. _Difficult_ was really an understatement.

   "Dad! There he is!" Gus' excitement almost matched his father's.

   Like his father, Gus wasn't often given to displays of this kind of excitement. Like his father, he was a bit of a brooding figure, with a hefty portion of early teen angst added into the mix. On the day over a year ago when he'd been introduced to Cpt. Taylor, he'd taken an instant dislike to the man. Since his mothers had picked up the family and relocated them to Toronto, Gus didn't get to see as much of his dad as he thought he should, and the only thing Justin Taylor represented in the boy's young life was theft. This was someone who would steal away the few precious bits of time _he_ was allotted to spend with _his_ dad.  Gus considered the visits with his father to be _his._  He certainly hadn't wanted to share one with some discipline-heavy soldier on an army base.

   His dad had told him about this stranger and his moms had tried to fill in as much as they knew, but all Gus heard, through that filter of absolutism that so often accompanies one his age, was that his dad didn't need him anymore. The first meeting started out stressful, to say the least.

   Now, over a year later, he couldn't think of anyone, other than his father, that he respected as much.

   Gus grinned, watching his dad's eyes grow brighter, and knew they were tearing up. He looked back toward the parking lot where he saw the now familiar smile hurrying toward them. Yeah. He liked Cap. And Cap loved his dad.

   It was all good.

::

   Brian hadn't really slept much at all, and he groaned as he watched the light diffuse through the heavy draperies covering Justin's bedroom windows. He still thought of this as ‘Justin's place', even though it now carried bits and pieces of him as well. He'd spent more than a few nights here since Justin's amazing speech in the Liberty Diner almost two years ago. That stunning public statement, Cpt. Justin Taylor in full dress uniform proudly declaring his love for him, marked the day Brian Kinney began to actually _live_.

   The disappointment Brian had felt later, when it struck him that he and Justin wouldn't actually be living together, or even in close proximity to each other, had somehow taken him by surprise. Of course it shouldn't have. They'd both known it. Brian had Kinnetik in Pittsburgh and Justin had his military career based in Tennessee, so moving wasn't really an option for either one of them at the time. They made do with the phone and the internet and Brian racked up a plethora of frequent flier miles, heading out for Tennessee as often as he could. But a weekend here and there just didn't do it for them, giving them just enough time to whip their appetites for each other up into a frenzy and then having the cold water of Sunday night poured on top of it. This time, however, Justin's unit had scheduled two weeks' leave coinciding with their return to the States. It wasn't enough - never enough, he thought as he felt Justin's toned arms wrap him more tightly - but after six months' separation it was something.

   Thank fucking god.

  "Did I say ‘welcome home, soldier'?"

  Brian could feel Justin's smile as it met the skin of his chest, felt it turn into kisses trailing up his neck, his jaw, resting on his lips.  

   "I think you actually said it several times, Mr. Kinney. And the Army thanks you for your enthusiastic... and creative... support."

   Brian kissed the too-short hair on Justin's blond head and thought about exactly how he had welcomed home his soldier during the night. He tried so hard to forget missing Justin during their times apart, but it was a for shit endeavor. He missed every single thing about the man - the eyes, the intellect, the wit, the surprising softness of his skin and the work-toned tightness of his muscles. He missed the welcoming heat of his lips and the almost spiritual connection they shared when their bodies came together. God, he fucking _loved_ this man.

   And now he was home. Brian knew, as he nuzzled his chin against the sensitive skin of Justin's shoulder, that he intended to savor every moment.

   "Yeah, well... you know me. Always willing to go that extra mile, make our boys in uniform feel appreciated."

   Justin chuckled and lightly bit at Brian's jaw. "You know, this conversation is so very irreverent on so many levels. But, in light of the selfless donation of your time and... talents," he said as he ran his hand down the length of Brian's body, "...and your obvious... patriotism... I'll let it go this time."

   "Shit!" Brian's breath hitched and he groaned from the attentions of Justin's talented fingers expertly gripping his cock. God, he had missed this feeling, this intensity... this man. "Don't... don't you fucking _dare_ let _it_ go, Captain."

   Justin laughed lightly and continued on with his work. He never disobeyed a direct order.

::

   Justin had never let himself think of being a father. His career choices had seemed to preclude that particular joy. He still _wasn't_ a father technically, but having Gus in his life was closer than he'd ever imagined he'd be. And he was still floored by the strength of his current attachment to Brian's son.

   The week he'd spent meeting the young man for the first - well actually, second time produced some totally expected angst, but became one of those stories that would be told again and again, lovingly embarrassing all concerned. Gus had stubbed up, sneered and stomped off so many times during the first few days of that vacation that Brian was ready to pack him up and send him back to his mothers on the first available bus. Justin had suggested that they redirect his energies instead, that perhaps they take a trip to the riding stables off-base. What eleven year-old boy could resist the draw of a saddle? Justin breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared to work and Gus laughed for the first time that week. A subsequent trip to the archery range, the arcade and a few surreptitious laughs at Brian's expense over late-night pizza - _heavy on the cheese, please, Cap_ \- and Gus was a believer.

   Over the following months, Gus and Justin texted and emailed, skyped and called each other. It worked and the two forged a bond that would last over the remainder of their lives. When Justin told him that he was once again being deployed, this time for six months or more, Gus quietly cried himself to sleep. And worried about his dad.

::

   "Mornin' dad."

   Brian glanced at his son eating a bagel at the breakfast bar, guessing that the boy had been up for some time. He smirked at the green beret perched on his head and the camouflage jacket that hung loosely from his slim shoulders.

   "Run off and join the Army while I was sleeping, son?" Brian squeezed the young man's shoulder as he reached for a cup of coffee. "If so, I suggest they contract with a different tailor."

   " _Dad_ ," Gus blushed out. "I just wanted to try it on. Cap won't mind," he quipped around a bite of the bagel. The added hesitantly, "Will he?"

   Brian chuckled. "No, son, I don't think your Cap will mind you wearing his uniform. You kinda have him wrapped."

   Gus' grin widened. "Yeah."

    Justin cleared his throat from the doorway and Gus immediately straightened his posture. One of the things he admired about Cap was the way he held himself, made himself appear taller than he was somehow, even in his bare feet. Justin smiled at the instinctive reaction of the boy. "At ease, soldier," he said. Then, "Oh, god. You made coffee!"

   "Yep. I make it for the moms all the time. Don't know how you drink that sh... um... stuff."

   Brian glared at his son. "This sh...um... stuff is the liquid of life, Gus. _Never_ forget that."

   Justin leaned back against the breakfast bar sipping the hot coffee but drinking in the obvious love and friendship between the two Kinney men. Brian put Gus at ease in the relationship with his open love for the boy, and Gus gave Brian the opportunity to be the father he never thought he'd be. The good one. The one Justin had known Brian _could_ be on that very first night so many years ago. He was so desperately happy that he knew them both. That he loved them both, and that they would all be together for a while.

   "Okay, Kinneys. Time to get this show on the road," Justin barked out in his best commanding tone. "We only have two weeks. Let's make the most of every minute."

   "Already packed and loaded, Cap. I'm just waiting for you two slackers to catch up. I know you didn't sleep much last night." Gus grinned sheepishly. "Must have been all that liquid of life you drank."

   Justin blushed hotly and groaned with embarrassment. Brian smirked and shook his head at his precocious kid. Yes, the boy was indeed his father's son.

   "I'll have you know, young man, I was merely... debriefing the good captain on the details of his latest mission," he said, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "And since you seem to be so eager this morning, _you_ can load the rest of the stuff into the trunk. You'll find it neatly stacked by the bedroom door."

   Gus sighed dramatically, acting every inch the put-upon child. But the bags were loaded in record time.

 

    "Are you sure you want to do this, Sunshine?" Brian asked quietly. "You honestly want to spend your leave out in the wilds of America?"

   "Kentucky isn't exactly the outback, Brian. We'll be in a cabin." Justin laughed. Brian frowned.

   "Yeah, it's that cabin part that bothers me."

   "At least we'll have our own bedroom," Justin whispered. "With a Jacuzzi tub."

   Brian slowly grinned.

   Okay. He could handle that.

::

   The cabin wasn't quite what Brian expected. _A bit rustic_ , Justin had told him. _Right_. The images those words placed in Brian's head - of dusty deer heads jutting out perilously above crumbling fireplace rock, of corn-shuck filled ticking adorning whip-stitch rigged beds, of pails of water pulled from backyard wells - had made him all but want to cancel this little woodland adventure. And here they were standing at the edge of a long, circular drive in front of a beautifully crafted pine wood house, an upper wood deck leaning out over one of the most panoramic views of wild-water he'd ever seen. _Not_ a cabin. _Not_ a bit rustic. Not by _any_ stretch of the imagination.

   "Wow..." That was all Gus could say as he turned in a circle, taking in the view.

   "Um... Sunshine...," Brian began. "Exactly what is your definition of rustic?"

   Justin grinned, then laughed outright. "Yeah. I... um... stretched it just a bit."

   "A bit? Damn, kid, I think we need to work on your tendency toward hyperbole." Brian's eyes drifted over the open expanse of the yard.  Tall, straight trunks of white pine, walnut and beech trees framed the large mossy clearing, in the middle of which sat a hand-dug fire-pit. Around the pit had been placed hewn tree trunks, rubbed and sanded to a glassy smooth finish, and held in place as benches by lichen covered wood slats.

   The ‘cabin' itself was a tri-level house built into the side of a mountain, and sported floor to ceiling windows and wrap around decking. The mid-July sun filtered through the green branches of the trees, striping the beautiful structure with layers of golden light. Brian shook his head as he looked at Justin's guilty expression and smiled as he watched the grin on his son's face grow with every passing moment.

   Yeah. He could get used to this roughing it shit.

::

   "Col. Trent and his wife did a great job on the place," Justin began to explain as he and Brian shared a glass of wine on the lower level porch, watching the moon shimmering in the water of the Cumberland River. Gus had unhappily retired to his bed a couple of hours ago. Now the two men sat together, listening to the songs of crickets and frogs whispering softly on the slight breeze, and in the distance they could hear the roar of the wild river rushing over the falls. It was a soothing moment.

   "When I first met the colonel... after dad shipped me off to military school... I was a mess. Belligerent and angry. Oppositional. I hated everyone and everything and I was on the edge of losing myself altogether." Justin stared into the night as he spoke. "I'd just been outed - just met you. I'd lost my family, as far as I knew, and felt like I had been plopped down into some kind of fascist hellhole."

   Brian sighed as he silently listened to Justin's words, knowing that he held a great deal of responsibility for the young man being shipped off to that fucking military academy. He'd been a selfish, self-centered asshole. Used the kid that Justin had been and then dumped him in front of his high school without a second thought. Justin's life had forever been changed because of that callousness. As had his own life. He'd never been able to completely forget the beautiful young man he'd met that night - had often wistfully imagined him growing up, becoming a man, an artist. When he saw him again so any years later, he'd been stunned to see that life had an entirely different plan for Justin Taylor.

   "Dad wouldn't even let me come home on holidays the first year," Justin continued. "So Col. Trent and his wife kind of adopted me. He spent more one-on-one time with me those first few months than my dad did my entire life, I think. Talked me off the proverbial cliff a couple of times, gave me focus and direction. Brought me here after he and his wife bought this land. I was with them when they cleared out the first trees."

   "I still want to meet this father figure of yours," Brian pulled Justin a bit closer on the glider. Held him just a bit tighter. "I have a lot to thank him for."

   Justin chuckled. "Glad you said that. He'll be here the end of the week."

   "Great," Brian groaned. "I suppose that means we'll have to fuck quietly then?"

   "Yeah. I suppose it does. _But_... as loud as we can get, I think we'd better practice." He crawled up and straddled Brian's lap for emphasis. "Repeatedly."

   "You think so, huh?"

   "Oh, yeah."

::

   The first few days and nights flew by.  The first days of getting settled in - highlighted by scouting out the hillside and river's edge, fishing off the dock Col. Trent had built over the river, and long talks at twilight around the fire-pit - gave Justin time to decompress from his recent deployment. He sat and watched the interaction between Brian and his son, marveling at their similarities and laughing at their very distinct differences.

   Gus, in the fashion of most twelve-year-olds, was ready for any adventure and was already liberally doused with calamine lotion for his various rashes and bites. He didn't seem to care that much, but quickly learned to avoid certain three-leaved plants.

   Brian, however, was a city boy. Born and bred. It was taking him some time to acclimate himself to the great outdoors, with its abundance of insects and deciduous humidity. It would have been absolutely fine with him if they never left the ‘cabin' at all, preferring the pool table and air conditioning to the pools of water and occasionally wafting breezes. But as he watched the unbridled joy on the faces of his son and his partner as they hiked and swam and fished and generally absorbed their surroundings, he gave in without much argument. And he wondered what the _hell_ had become of Brian Kinney.

   On Friday they had made a day of white-water rafting on the river.

   "God, dad! Today was awesome! Especially when we flipped the kayak on that snake turn!"

   Justin rubbed Brian's shoulders when he saw the horrified look on Brian's face as he recalled that particular moment. "Shit, Gus, we could have all died out there! One minute we were on the fucking raft and the next we... well, we weren't."

   "We all had on vests and helmets, Brian. We could have drifted apart, yeah, but the guides are trained to handle that kind of situation. Happens all the time." Secretly, he had been scared to death for both Brian and Gus when the kayak upended in the turbulent water, but he'd been through it a few times. He knew fear was the biggest enemy, and was himself trained in water rescue. Gus had handled it like a pro, following the instructions he had been given at the beginning of the trip. Brian, on the other hand... Well, he struggled. Just a bit. Now, as they sat watching the sun set over the water, safely settled beside the great room windows, he knew Brian was reliving it all over again - the fear for his son especially. And it filled Justin with a warmth he couldn't quite define, this protective father side of Brian. He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from the man's forehead and cupped his cheek gently.

   "Okay," he said finally, with a light laugh, "No more extreme sports for the Kinney men."   

::

   Justin's shadow played on the floor behind him as the first rays of sunlight drifted through the tall glass windows. He'd been standing there for some time watching the dawn break. He didn't know how long. Couldn't sleep in. Again. It was difficult adjusting to being his own man after so many months of deployment. Everything had been decided for him, every move, meal and memory seemingly choreographed by someone of higher rank. As an officer, he followed the rules, and that willingly. He believed in what he did, what his commission and his country stood for.  But sometimes, when he came home, it was a difficult adjustment.

   Right now he just wanted to be sleeping in with Brian, luxuriating in the feel of that long, lean body so docile next to his. But his internal clock had other ideas, and that pissed him off a bit. If he was on leave at home in Clarksville, he would be out on his run right now. Or hitting the gym or the dojo or the pool to kick start his day. But this place, with its inherent serenity, demanded he relax his body and mind. If only he could get his head to agree.

   Justin took another long drink of his coffee, breathing in the richness of the blend - Brian's blend - and pondered the arrival of Col. Trent later this morning. He hadn't seen the man who had been so instrumental in his life for several months, and he was eagerly looking forward to his arrival. But there was a part of him that was anxious about the reunion. Yeah, the colonel knew Justin was gay, had known from the outset and was always understanding.

   _You have to be who you were meant to be, Cadet. But you also have to be smart about it_.

   Justin was fully aware that knowing and _knowing_ could be two entirely different things. Would his mentor understand when he _knew_? When the evidence was a walking, breathing partner, complete with son? Col. Trent was from the old guard. Now retired, he was not an active part of the ‘new' Army, with its somewhat relaxed regulations on gays serving openly. Would he be judged? Or accepted.

   Justin stiffened slightly and then relaxed into the long arms suddenly encircling him from behind, into the sleep warmed scent of his homecoming. Regardless of Col. Trent's reaction, he knew he was right. Being here with Brian. He smiled at the reflection that met him in the glass panes - Brian's chin resting on blond hair, tightly wrapped arms melding two bodies into one, two pairs of eyes staring out into the world. Together.

   This was _right_.

::

   Brian had just finished loading the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes when he heard the distinct slam of a car door. He quirked one brow when he saw a small grin cross Justin's face. He'd expected it to be a bit bigger.

   "Sounds like your father figure has arrived."

   "Yeah. A little earlier than I'd anticipated," Justin said, a bit hesitantly. "C'mon. Let's go welcome the conquering homeowner."

   "Who's here, Dad?" Gus had been occupying himself with one of his video games. He'd help make breakfast. It was up to his dad to do cleanup duty.

   "One of Cap's old teachers - an old friend," Brian replied as he pretended a stranglehold on his son. "And you, young man, remember your manners."

   "Gee, Dad, I'm not five."

   "No. No, you're not." Brian felt a pang when he thought about just how grown up his son was becoming. "C'mon, son."

   The first thing one noticed about Col. Jasper Trent was his size. He wasn't quite as tall as Brian - maybe six feet - but he gave the impression of being much taller. His wide shoulders and trim waist created an imposing air about the man that demanded respect and decorum. He wore dark chinos and a button down blue shirt, sleeves rolled up meticulously to the middle of his forearms. His gray hair was cut in an old style flat top, a throwback, Brian was certain, to his many years in the military. And he was ramrod straight.

   "Welcome home, Colonel." Justin spoke with an obvious air of respect in his voice, his posture straight and deferential.

   "Cap. Taylor," Col. Trent's voice boomed out. "I think I should be welcoming _you_ home. It's only been what? A week? You've still got sand in your boots!" 

   "Eight days, sir, and I did my best to leave the sand behind. Had enough of that for a while."

   "Yeah, s'pose you did, at that," Col. Trent replied, his voice noticeably softer. "Glad to see you made it home in one piece, son." He reached out and drew the younger, smaller man to him in a tight hug.

   "Thank you, sir. That makes two of us." Justin hugged the man back. The colonel had played the part of superior officer, father, mentor, teacher, friend... so many roles over the years they had known each other. Underlying them all was the deep and abiding respect strong soldiers held for one another.

   As they separated, Justin turned and motioned to the two people standing in the middle of the great room. "Col. Trent, I'd like to introduce you to my partner, Brian Kinney, and his son, Gus. Brian, Gus... this is Col. Trent. One of the finest soldiers - finest men - I've had the pleasure of knowing."

   "It's a pleasure meeting you, Colonel. I've heard many good things about you and what you've done for Justin. Thank you." Brian was sincerely honored to finally meet the man he'd heard so much about over the past two years. He'd made a strong impact on Justin's life.

   "Good to meet you, sir," Gus said simply.

   "The pleasure is all mine, Brian. And it appears you're raising a fine son!"

   "Thank you, sir, but he has his moments," Brian laughed out.

   "Don't we all, son. Don't we all." The colonel tightly gripped Brian's hand and smiled. There was a mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes. It would be okay.

::

   They stood on the floating dock looking out over the swift river. Justin had stayed behind, he and Gus tending to the trout and potatoes on the grill. Brian knew the colonel wanted to talk with him. Alone.

   "This is as peaceful a place as I've found on earth, Brian Kinney." For some reason, Col. Trent preferred to use Brian's full name when addressing him. Coming from another, it would have sounded condescending or trivializing. Coming from the colonel, it sounded almost warm.

   "I can't dispute that, sir."

   "Georgia and I were out on a drive when we stumbled across this little piece of land. Not long before I met young Justin Taylor." He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering one to Brian, who simply nodded his thanks, then lit them both. He drew the smoke deeply into his lungs and let it out with a loud exhale. "I was never blessed with a son. Oh, I love my girls dearly, but I won't lie... I'd hoped at least one of those four would have a Y chromosome," he chuckled. "When I retired from active duty and began teaching at the academy, I think part of the attraction was being around all that young testosterone, being able to help form those boys into strong young men. Hopefully into strong young officers. Most of them were trouble makers from the get-go. Angry. Prideful. A bit broken."

   Brian listened quietly, wondering where the other man was headed with his story. He leaned on one of the dock posts and crossed his arms on his chest as the colonel continued.

   "When I met young Taylor, he didn't seem all that different at first. But he was. Most of the boys were there for some infraction they'd pulled or some belligerence that their parents wanted disciplined out of ‘em. Taylor? Well, I soon found out he was different. He was a stellar student but isolated himself from everyone. Fragile in appearance and haunted in his demeanor. Still and all, he was always showing up with some bruise or injury. I soon figured out he was being dumped on by some of the other boys. Quite proud, that young man. Never said a word."

   "That he is, sir. That he is."

   "When I found out that his family had literally abandoned him to the academy, we took him under our wing. Georgia and I. In a way, he became the son I'd never had. Bright, talented, quick-witted...  I... fear I pushed him more than perhaps I should have. Toward the military. But I saw him drowning, struggling for a lifeline. I gave him the only one I knew."

   The colonel paused for a moment, straightening his spine and letting his eyes wander over the sunny expanse of water and rocky river's edge.

   "Col. Trent..."

   "I guess, what I'm saying..." the colonel continued as if Brian hadn't spoken, "...is that this is a difficult life for a spouse, Brian Kinney. The divorce and separation rate for the military is higher than in the public sector. Long and frequent separations. Commitment to duty that often takes one away from family even when not deployed... I... love that young man and I respect him. I want him to have a full life." He turned and stared deeply into Brian's eyes. Searching... "You understand what I'm saying?"

   "Yes, sir. I believe I do." Brian stood in awe of this man. This military officer, giving him the ‘father' talk. Something that Justin's own father damned well would never have done. Telling him at once that they had his blessing, that Brian needed to prepare himself for a difficult journey and, by god, he'd better not hurt Justin along the way. There'd be hell to pay if that happened.

   "I can't guarantee that we won't have... issues, Colonel," Brian said as he met the man's stare. "But I can guarantee that he'll know I love him."

   Col. Trent held Brian's gaze for a long few moments, then nodded. "That's all a man can ask." Brian nodded his agreement. "Now, let's get back before those men up there eat our food."

   Brian held back for a few seconds, processing the colonel's words as he walked toward the house. He held his face up to the sun and felt the deep July heat on his skin, and the deep peace of family in his soul. And he started to understand why Justin felt such respect for, such kinship with one Col. Jasper Trent.

::

   "Why isn't Mrs. Trent with you, Colonel?" Justin was fond of Georgia Trent. No. _Much_ more than fond. That word didn't begin to cover the range of feelings he had for the chubby powerhouse of a woman he'd met so long ago. Like his own mother, Georgia Trent was independent, bright, funny and successful in her own right as a pediatric nurse. On more than one occasion she'd tended to his broken and bruised skin with those strong, informed hands. She'd dealt with the bullshit that goes with being an Army wife with tact and surety, letting her husband do his job to the best of his ability, keeping the family together with her strong personality. She managed and thrived, knowing that when her husband came home she would again have to step aside as the sole parent and reintegrate them all into the family unit again. It wasn't an easy task, he knew. But they had worked at it for more than forty years.

   "She's spending some time with Lisa and her brood. Georgia's not... been well of late."    There was a resignation present in the colonel's words, one that didn't fit what Justin knew of the man. At all. He was a man of action who took the world by the balls and made it his own. To hear him talk of his beloved wife with an air of... futility... well, that just didn't _fit_.

   "Sir? She's going to be... okay?" Justin knew before he voiced the question that the answer wouldn't be a positive one. The look on his mentor's face told him nearly everything.

   "Alzheimer's," he responded, brokenly. "Found out a couple of months ago."

   There were no words. None. Just the hateful silence of understanding hanging between the two men sitting beside the fire-pit, surrounded by the lush forest of the Kentucky mountains, the sound of rushing water the only break in the quiet night. Even the birds and insects seemed to understand the impact of this moment.

   "This was all for her, you know," the colonel motioned around him to the house and the clearing. "This mountain retreat. Built it the way she wanted. Built it where she wanted. So we could share the rest of our lives here." The older man's voice was brittle, broken. "Christ knows she put up with enough of my bullshit over the years. Being so strong. So... Georgia."

   "I'm so sorry, sir. So very sorry."

   "Me too, son. For her future. Only for that." He took a long drink for the beer he held. "Never for what we had. It's been an amazing journey with that spitfire woman. One no man is good enough to deserve. Now... it's my turn to repay the favor."

   Justin simply nodded his agreement. What the fuck could he say at a moment like this? He wanted to rant to a god who would slowly steal the very soul of a woman like Georgia Trent! But he couldn't. They'd both seen too much, been through too much to think that platitudes or soothing words would make the other feel better. That's not what his friend needed. He simply sighed and pulled a long drink from his own beer. His friend just needed him to be here. To silently remember with him who the real Georgia Ann Trent was, who she would always be to them.

::

   Gus was beside himself with excitement. He'd been bugging his dad and Cap to see the falls since he'd heard about them. And finally, today, they were going. He loved the water. The power and sound and smell of it. Guess he must have been a river-boat captain in another life, he thought. He'd looked up the Cumberland Falls on the internet - they called it the ‘Niagara of the South' due to its size and the amount of water that tumbled over it every day. And he couldn't wait!

   They hadn't been idle at all this week, so Gus hadn't been bored. They'd fished and waded in the river here at the ‘cabin', they'd gone white-water rafting, had even toured a ghost mining town called Blue Heron after a trip on the Big South Fork train. It was all good. But he wanted to see the falls. And now he would.

   "Get a move on soldier," came a gruff voice from behind. The colonel. He wasn't sure what to make of him at first, all military and formal when they'd met. But the guy was cool. Told Gus about the birds and the trees, about his days overseas while in the Army, even showed him how to lash together logs to make benches like the ones around the fire-pit. Yeah, he was cool. Kind of grandfather-ish, he guessed. And Cap liked him, so that was a plus.

   "Yes, sir!" Gus replied and grabbed his backpack.

   They spent the day at the park where the falls were located, hiking and picnicking and just bumming around. Late into the night the men sat around the blanket beside a sleeping almost-teen who had conked out a while ago. Tomorrow they'd all head back out - the colonel to his wife who was visiting their daughter in Galveston, and Brian, Justin and Gus, back to Clarksville. Brian was going to spend more time in Tennessee with Justin, but Gus would soon be heading back to Toronto and his mothers. None of the three were happy about that.

   The mood had gotten quiet and Brian thought this was as good a time as any to bring up a subject he'd been considering.

   "I'm thinking about retiring," he said. The sudden shift in conversation from hi-jinx pulled as kids to something this serious caught both Justin and Col. Trent a bit off guard.

   "What?" Just exclaimed. "Just like that... out of the blue you're retiring?"

   "Thinking about it." Brian pulled his lips and held them between his teeth.

   The colonel just leaned back watching the interaction between the two men. No need for his input at this point.

   "Brian... shit! Your life is in that company!"

   "No. It's not. My money is in that company, and I've made enough of it to never have to work another day if I don't want to." He looked at the colonel, who had a knowing smile on his face. Then back to Justin. "My life is here. On this blanket in the middle of this park."

   "Christ, Brian," Justin sputtered. He couldn't do that. He could let Brian give up his company because of him! "You can't give up your life like that! You wouldn't ask me to do that!"

   "And _you're_ not asking _me_ to do it," Brian responded brusquely. "I... I just think it's time. I'll still own the company, maybe do some consulting from time to time. But... my glory days are behind me, Justin. I don't want to wake up some morning and realize that our life is behind me, too." He reached over and cupped his partner's face with both hands, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, I'll be an Army wife... just like those women on that show."   

   At that, Col. Trent roared out a laugh, which caught the attention of a few casual bystanders. "Well, I think somehow it won't be _just_ like those women."

   Brian laughed and pulled Justin closer, kissing him lightly on the lips. "So, yeah, I won't be baking cookies for the next base social. I'll pay someone to do it for me."

   "Jesus, a new world Betty Crocker," Justin snorted and laid his head in Brian's lap. "Just... be sure, Brian. That this is what you want."

   " _You're_ what I want, Sunshine." Brian twined his fingers with Justin's.

   At that moment Gus stirred awake and a voice from behind the colonel spoke. "We have our families here. They don't need to see this kind of display in public. Or anywhere, for that matter."

   "Excuse me?" Brian looked up into the reddened face of a slightly rumpled middle-aged man. He could feel Justin tense and sensed the same from Col. Trent.

   "This is a family place, sir. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your... behavior... appropriate. God says..." the rumpled man continued.

   "So, you speak for God, do you?"

   "Dad?" Gus had no real idea what was going on but this didn't feel right. Not at all.

   "It's okay, Gus. Just a discussion between men. Right, sir?" His eyes never left those of the other man as both he and Col. Trent stood.

   "Go back to your own family, sir," Col. Trent advised. "Leave us to ours. And read your New Testament more closely, son."

   "I know the Bible, sir."

   "Colonel."

   "Excuse me?" There was a quizzical look on the rumpled man's face.

   "Colonel. Col. Jasper Trent, U. S. Army, retired," the colonel said, his bearing every bit that of a military man. "And this," he said, indicating Justin who now stood beside him, "is Cpt. Justin Taylor, U. S. Army Special Forces."

   "And I'm Brian fucking Kinney, quickly-getting-pissed-off public citizen. Active duty." Justin couldn't help the small smirk he had at his partner's rather colorful self-introduction. But he didn't want a scene here in a public park. He placed his hand at the small of Brian's back and pressed lightly, letting him know to cool it. Just a little. At least for Gus' sake.

   Brian, however, was not letting it go quite so easily. He pointed out a young, _heterosexual_ couple several feet over. A couple who were kissing in a quite lively manner. "Your God instruct you to chastise them, as well, Mr...?"

   "Sanders, Pastor James Sanders," the rumpled man responded. Then looking toward the colonel, he continued, "...and I know my New Testament very well, thank you."

   "Ah, I see..."

   "No. You don't see. That's the problem. You've been blinded by sin..."

   Brian snorted.

   "Mr. Sanders..." Justin began.

   "Pastor," the rumpled man corrected.

   "Sure... _Pastor_ Sanders, unless you have some authority from a _worldly_ sovereign power that would excuse you from interrupting our family outing, I'd suggest you leave us alone now. This is, as you are well aware, a very public park. Unless you encounter us doing something illegal, we are well within our rights to share this park with you. You, as you know, have the option to remove your family if you feel we are inhibiting their spiritual growth in any way. Please feel free to exercise that option." With that, Justin placed a hand on each of the other men and directed them to sit back down. Gus was waiting, confused, and this wasn't the place or time to act rashly.

   Surprisingly, the rumpled man turned and walked away, apparently having thought about confronting three stronger men in a public venue. He motioned for his family to gather their things and leave.

   "Sunshine?" Brian said, a bit starstruck. "That was a very conciliatory speech you just gave."

   Justin smiled his brightest. "Experience. Diplomacy is key to what I do," he said simply. "Well, that _and_ having two larger companions."

   With a snort, Brian shoved Justin playfully.

   The colonel looked up at the sky and smiled. "Full moon and it's almost midnight. I think it's time, don't you, son?" He put his arm around Gus' shoulders and the boy nodded eagerly.

   "Yep. Let's go!"

::

   The spray off the waterfall felt amazing on skin that had been overheated by the Kentucky July sun and they all turned their faces into it. Gus was chomping at the bit to climb over the restraining rail the park service had erected years ago. A curt word from all three of the adults had put a bit of a damper on that urge, however.

   As the four men stood watching the power of the water rush over the river cliff that formed Cumberland Falls, they each felt the energy of the moment. And the magic.

   "There!" Gus shouted. "There it is!"

   Three faces turned in the direction of Gus' pointing finger and watched the moonlight refracting off the beads of water lifted into the air by the force of its fall. They watched as the light shifted and broke into pieces of colored glass and hovered, in all its prismed glory, for just a moment.

   The Moonbow.   

    "I haven't wanted to paint anything in so long, but now..." Justin's voice held a sense of awe at the unexpected rush of feelings. "This is... phenomenal. It's like an affirmation..." Brian held him close.

   And it was. A rainbow where it shouldn't be, at a time that it shouldn't exist. A rainbow in the dark of night, propelled by a lunar force that commands the tides. A phenomenon that occurs on a schedule - that's why they had chosen tonight to be here - in only two places on earth. Yeah, it happens in other places, other waterfalls, once in a while, but this... to know it can be depended upon, that it's going to return, again and again. A fucking rainbow!

   Brian thought back over the last two weeks, over the last few hours. The encounter with the homophobic Pastor Sanders had left him with a sour taste, regardless of the lighthearted way it ended. Honestly, he was surprised that they hadn't encountered more of that sentiment in this decidedly religious part of the country. But they hadn't. For the most part people had just been... well... people. Living and letting live. But the Sanders guy? Yeah, it reminded Brian that bigotry still exists, that Don't Ask/Don't Tell wasn't just an archaic idea wrought by the military. But things were shifting. Tides were turning and attitudes were changing. And here was the affirmation of that, just when he needed it. A Moonbow.

   In that moment, he'd made his final decision. He wasn't going to live another year in a shuttle relationship. He'd retire. God knows he could afford it. Being with Justin, being a real partner in a real supportive relationship was worth more than any high he could get from another presentation, another account.  His life was standing right in front of him, peering excitedly over a pipe railing into the face of the impossible.

  He felt a presence sidle up beside him and felt the calloused hand of Col. Trent on his arm.  

  "There are just some things that should never, logically, exist in this world, Brian Kinney. Good kids kicked around or tossed away for being who they are. Hate-filled Christians. Diseases that eat away at the very soul of a being.  They just don't make sense. Then again, we have the platypus. Flying fish. A midnight moonbow. Trained soldiers with soft touches and artistic souls. They make not a shit's worth of sense, either. But exist they do. And I'll deal with the bad if I can hold onto that little bit of good, and thank god for it."

   Brian looked over at the smiling faces of his son and partner, side by side on the leaf strewn concrete overlook, their skin and hair damp from the river spray, arms around each other in friendship, love.

   Yeah, some things shouldn't logically exist in the world and Brian Kinney in love was one of them. But he was, and he was going to hold onto it with every fucking thing he had.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo credit for original image of Cumberland Falls : SeeMidTN.com (aka Brent) / Foter / CC BY
> 
> There are only two places on earth that a Moonbow appears with any scheduled regularity - Cumberland Falls, Kentucky and Victoria Falls, South Africa. If you ever get the opportunity to see one, don't let it pass. Awesome experience. Only occurs during the full moon with clear skies.
> 
> All recognizable characters and names are the sole properties of Cowlip and Showtime, et al. Original character and plot are my own.


	3. A Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cpt. Justin Taylor-Kinney goes missing in Afghanistan.
> 
> Part III of the "Be All That You Can Be" universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable characters and names the sole property of Cowlip and Showtime, et al. I only own the plot.

[ ](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/ronistone/media/c8fc4372-b74b-44f6-99c1-a559b8fa631c_zpsulkvzvlx.jpg.html)

It was merely a coincidence that Jennifer was with Brian when the knock sounded on the door. It was the week before Thanksgiving. Jennifer and Molly had driven to the City for a little holiday shopping and decided to stop by, to give Brian just a bit of family while Justin was gone. A few weeks after the summer vacation with Gus, Justin and Brian agreed to officially change their residence to New York State, bought a quaint little apartment in Chelsea together and legally married in a private ceremony with only Gus and Col. Trent in attendance. They both just had to have their best men. Justin had quickly applied for his New York driver's license, they'd made a hurried visit to their attorney, changing their Wills to reflect their domicile state, and they were slowly integrating their lives into the New York landscape. They had given it everything they had, dotted as many i's as they could and crossed every t they ran across to follow the new world order of same-sex military protocol.

The repeal of DOMA in June had opened up yet a few _more_ doors for same sex couples in the military, but the hoops they had to jump through to get past those doors were many and varied. The biggest, and most complicated, hoop for Justin and Brian was the move to New York. Neither of them wanted to live apart or leave their lives behind. But the hit-and-miss nature of same-sex marriage laws in the country, combined with the military's strict interpretation of how those laws would be applied for the purposes of spousal recognition and benefits, left them little choice. If they were to be considered fully entitled under the archaic rules of "only married need apply", Justin had to be legally domiciled in a state that actually recognized same-sex marriage. So they made the legal change. They had decided, however, to keep their respective properties in Pennsylvania and Tennessee, but with Brian turning the reins of Kinnetik over to Cynthia and Theodore. Justin would still be based out of Ft. Campbell, but for the time being, Brian would settle their new home in Chelsea.

The convoluted system of regulations and requirements set up against them by the military was a seemingly never-ending maze. If everything went according to plan and there were no more roadblocks thrown at them, Brian hoped to join Justin in Tennessee on a more or less permanent basis within the next six months. And now, finally... _finally_... they were as covered as they could be to insure Brian's recognition as Justin's next of kin, military dependent and fully entitled husband.

As he opened the door to see two men in full military uniform, Brian was about to find out just how auspicious all that preparation had been.

* * *

"Sir, I'm Master Sergeant Otis Bell, 5th Special Forces Group, Ft. Campbell." Soldier number one spoke. Chevrons covered his sleeve. Brian realized chevrons made him nauseous.

Please god. No.

Just... no.

"Sir, are you Brian Taylor-Kinney, spouse of Captain Justin C. Taylor-Kinney?"

"Yeah. I'm... um... Brian Taylor-Kinney." Brian didn't want to do this. Wanted to be anywhere but here. The _only_ man in uniform he wanted to see in that doorway was Justin. And right now... right this moment... oh, Jesus... he was desperately afraid that would never happen again. He had to stall. God, just stall. Talk about the weather, goddamn it! The fucking state of the economy. The potholes on 8th... Any goddamn thing... but don't... just fucking _don't_.

"Jen... _Jennifer_!" He thought he yelled. May have whispered. Needed to yell so damned loud.

"Sir? May Chaplain Juarez and I come in, sir?"

"Is... is he dead?" The mission. Afghanistan again. Oh, fuckfuckfuck no. No. No.

"Brian?" Jennifer, still wiping her hands on the plum striped dish towels Justin had chosen a month ago, had heard the strangled call from the kitchen where Molly was still making coffee. "What are you yelling..." She noticed the two uniformed men standing just outside the door. Noticed Brian's eyes wide and blank, his jaw open, his hand clenched on the door handle. "Oh, God, please no," she whispered.

"Is he _dead_?" Brian's voice shook as he repeated the question to the two men.

"No. We don't know, sir. Captain Taylor-Kinney is listed as missing in action, sir." The steady voice belied the pain churning in the Master Sergeant's gut. Chaplin Juarez reached out to place a hand on the younger man's shoulder. This was probably the most difficult duty any soldier could undertake. "Mr. Taylor-Kinney, the Secretary of the Army regrets to inform you..."

Brian didn't really hear the rest of the words. Missing... In Afghanistan. Justin was missing.

His shoulders shook as he pulled a sobbing Jennifer to him, supporting her. Letting her support him.

He wanted to fall down and never get up. He wanted to cry and scream and punch the hell out of these fuckers who thought they had the right to make him bleed this way. To tell him Justin was missing. Maybe dead. He wanted to curl up into a ball and never unwind.

He wanted Justin.

* * *

They'd known it was a possibility. They'd discussed it. Brian wanted to laugh hysterically at just how useless those hypothetical discussions were when faced with reality. Fucking useless. Like he felt right now.

Jennifer had recovered first. Somewhat. She'd faced this potential every time Justin had been deployed over the last six years. She knew these men were breaking apart every time they had to make a call on a soldier's family. Her own heart was being torn apart knowing her son was missing - perhaps worse. She didn't think anything could be worse than receiving that phone call telling her that her son had been injured in war, that he'd been the victim of an enemy bullet. Knowing that he would bear the mental and physical scars and pain for the rest of his life. But _this_... oh, _god_... this was so much worse.

She vaguely listened to the Notification Officer as he extended Secretary McHugh's regrets, as he told them that a search was ongoing, as he told them that a Casualty Assistance Officer would be keeping them informed and helping them with any necessary paperwork. She vaguely listened and cataloged it all so she could pull it up later. Understand it. If she could ever understand it. She vaguely remembered thanking the men for their time and compassion before asking them to leave. Her family needed to be alone now.

Molly sat beside Brian on the sofa, her small hand rubbing the back of his long neck as he rested his head in his hands. She knew he was hiding his tears. A pretense of stoicism to the end. Unless it was with Justin or Gus. She'd really only seen Brian a handful of times over the last two years, but she'd listened to her brother wax eloquent about this new brother-in-law of hers in more phone calls and emails than she could count. She'd heard about this deceptively gentle man who loved his son and husband with the awesome force of a Category 5 hurricane. She knew he made her brother happier than she'd ever seen him. That was enough for her. Watching this near-stranger now, she knew her own grief and worry paled in comparison to his. She wanted to wrap him up and protect him. Make his pain go away for just a few minutes. But in all of her twenty-two year-old wisdom, she knew there was only one thing would ever do that.

"Mom, I'm going to make us something for lunch," she said. She really wasn't hungry and knew it was unlikely that either her mother or Brian had much of an appetite, either. She just needed to _do_ something. Make something. Cook something. Anything to keep her from _throwing_ something. She'd graduated this spring from the Institute of Culinary Education, much to her brother's gastronomic delight, and preparing food was therapeutic for her. Right now she could use a little therapy.

It was a few minutes later when she peeked through the doorway, back toward the living room. Brian was still sitting in the same spot on the sofa, but now her mother was beside him. Cradling his head on her shoulder. There was a familiarity about them as her mother's hands lightly stroked Brian's auburn hair. She could see her mother whispering into his ear as if he were a child, tears running down her pale face. Molly wiped her own face and leaned back against the archway. "Oh, God... please, please watch over him." She hoped God understood that she was asking for more than one man.

 

* * *

_Journal entry date - Monday, November 25, 2013_

_Sunshine,_

_It's been a week, Justin._

_One. Whole. Fucking. Week._

_Time for you to come home now._

_God, I want you to stop this shit and get the fuck home! Please..._

_Your mom and Molly have gone back to the Pitts. They stayed until this morning. Said they didn't want to be alone there for the weekend, but you and I know better than that, don't we, Sunshine? It was me they didn't want to be alone. In one of my more careless moments I'd already told them you were supposed to call me yesterday. And, fuck ,if I didn't sit with my phone in my hand the entire day. Waiting. You still didn't call. I'm pissed about that, you twat._

_Just thought I'd let you know you and Mother Taylor didn't waste all that money on tuition for Molly. Yeah, the girl can cook. Unfortunately, none of us were particularly inspired to eat. Our microwave will be getting a workout from all the leftovers. Not a lot like last Thanksgiving week, is it, Sunshine? Remember the trip to Toronto? Gus kicking some serious ass in that hockey game? You trying to be quiet while I fucked you in that Lesbian Loft? Yeah? I remember it, too._

_I got a call two days ago, finally, from the CAO. They essentially told me you were still MIA. Fuckers. They need to call me when they fucking_ find _you._

_Don't make me any crazier than I already am here, okay? Get your ass home. Or call me. I still have my phone in my hand. Waiting._

_Listen, Justin. Are you listening? ... Even if you can't come home, just let me know you're alive._

_Please, Justin._

_Here waiting..._

_B~_

 

* * *

He'd always been drawn to the darker works of art when he was a kid. The depiction of struggles between good and evil portrayed through the battles of angels and demons while a roiling storm front loomed behind. The same with literature. Moby Dick and Wuthering Heights taught him to look to the weather and the landscape and the turbulence of the sea to gauge the emotional temperature of a written plot. That it was merely an effective use of the pathetic fallacy or empathetic environment or some other literary or artistic device was immaterial. It had spoken to his childhood soul in some karmic, cosmic manner.

He recalled that now, as he stood alone and isolated from his team, a bit broken physically and spiritually, carrying with him only the barest of survival necessities, that he would find such astounding beauty and quietude in the austere ridges of the Hindu Kush Mountains. The landscape should, he thought, give him nightmares rather than feed his artistic soul. If that old youthful theory held water. But it didn't. The land was cold and barren and harsh, and yet so gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

The Kunar Province had become a hotbed of insurgency a few years ago, and there were yet uncounted pockets of ideologues still intent on settling the Taliban in place as the ultimate government in Afghanistan. And Justin had made a fatal mistake, culminating in him being here - alone in the middle of it. He had no illusions about his fate if caught. And as he looked around him, at the stark emptiness spread out at the base of the mountain range, he held few illusions about his fate if he _wasn't_ caught. He closed his eyes briefly, sending out a silent plea that he was the only potential casualty of that error.

It had been two days since his separation from his team. It was a simple recognizance mission, the kind they'd played out a dozen or more times flawlessly. They'd covered every contingency, followed their plan to the letter. But the strength of the storm had surprised them and the terrain was always questionable. He recalled the feel of ground shifting beneath his boots, recalled his own voice rushing back toward him as he shouted out into the violent wind. And he recalled coming to at the base of a rocky crag, nearly frozen and definitely feeling like he'd fallen from a cliff. His watch told him he'd been out for a few hours, and the storm was still blowing shit around.

By the time he'd found a sheltered outcrop, he'd wandered east for over half a mile. He couldn't plant a trail, even if it could have withstood the wind. Anything he left to identify his location to the friendlies would also identify his location to any potential hostiles. He was, as the saying goes, fucked. But he had MREs. He'd survive a few days, he thought, as he settled himself in his shelter. He rested his head against his pack and thought about Brian. Justin knew the protocol, knew Brian would be notified within 48 hours. His gut twisted at the panic and pain his husband would feel.

For the first time in his career, Capt. Justin Taylor-Kinney wished he was a simple used car dealer working for his uncle in Des Plains.

* * *

He hadn't showered in two days. Hadn't changed out of the jeans and t-shirt he had on when the Taylor women had left. Hadn't done much of anything, really. Barely breathed. He was simply trying to ignore the incessant knocking at the door as he stood, idly watching the slow progression of a tanker through the oversized window - the window that had made this small apartment the one Justin _had_ to have. _This light is fantastic, Brian, and we can see half of Chelsea._ And _the Hudson. Gus will get a kick out of watching the river traffic from here._

He wasn't sure he wanted to know who was on the other side of that fucking knock. Neither he nor Justin had had time to make friends in the City before his return to Ft. Campbell. The gang in the Pitts had been warned to stay away. He didn't need their coddling right now. Couldn't handle that. Jenn and Molly would have let him know they were coming. That didn't leave many options... and his heart couldn't take another set of chevrons or clusters of oak leaves or... or another round of regrets from the Secretary...

"Brian Kinney? I have the distinct feeling you _are_ inside there, son. Open the door." A softly cadenced voice called through the heavy wood.

When Brian finally opened the door he was relieved to see that the Colonel wasn't someone in uniform. He managed to hold back tears but his face crumpled and his shoulders shook as the older man pulled Brian into a tight embrace. "He's the most resilient soldier I know, son, and he'll defy the Almighty himself to get back here." The lingering leather-coffee scent of the Cubans Col. Trent often smoked was almost as calming to Brian as his words. "We just gotta keep ourselves together for him."

The Colonel made him shower and made him a sandwich and made him eat. Then they talked for hours, about Georgia and Alzheimer's and the hateful existence of soul-stealing diseases. About Gus and the newest Jasper Trent, only five weeks old. About white water rafting on the Cumberland River and marshmallows, burnt to a fine crisp over an open fire pit in Kentucky. About hypocrisy and impossible Moonbows.

And they talked about Justin.

"It was 1969 when I shipped out for the first time for Vietnam," Col. Trent began. "I was there for nearly a year before I got to see Georgia again. My oldest was seven months old before I got to hold her... Lot of the time we were on blackout. Couldn't get a call or a letter through... For weeks at a time Georgia had no idea if I was alive or dead..."

Brian held a glass of scotch in one hand and one of the Colonel's Cubans in the other as they sat across from each other on the sofa. "The first time Justin was deployed after we found each other again, it was one of those blackout kind of missions. We didn't hear from him for weeks. I was worried out of my mind. But... I made it through that... and he came home and we were great. I thought I knew what I was getting into." He gave a wry little laugh. "I had no fucking idea... no goddamned fucking idea what being scared was, even after that."

Brian downed the scotch and held the empty glass up, watching the light pass through the facets. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it there. "You know, we both met Justin when he was seventeen."

Col. Trent smiled and nodded. "And we'll both know him for a long time to come, Brian Kinney."

Brian held the Colonel's strong gaze for a moment before he nodded and turned his head to Justin's window. It was beginning to snow.

* * *

The first time he heard the voice, he thought he was dreaming. "Soldier. Soldier. Wake up."

Five days, he'd thought, since he'd heard another human voice and he hadn't expected it to be whispering urgent orders in at high, childish pitch. "You must wake up. Here is too cold."

Justin struggled with his eyelids. They seemed frozen together and he could almost feel them crack slightly as they pulled upward. He'd not been able to feel much of his body since yesterday. Except for the incessant gnawing in his gut from the lack of food. He tightened his hands on his weapon and aimed. Ready to shoot if necessary. When he finally focused, he really hoped to god he'd never have to pull the trigger.

The girl was perhaps ten, eleven. Merely a child by Justin's standards, but obviously not one by her own. "Come, come," she insisted. They eyed each other, up and down. She looked safe, but it was difficult to tell in this war. Kids were as expendable as kindling to the fanatical sects and could be as dangerous as snipers.

Justin strained to look around at the small sheltered area he'd created days ago to wait out the storm - at the few discarded MRE packs he'd buried shallowly in the snow, at the makeshift latrine he'd dug out with his hands. He'd been out of water for two days and he'd taken to using the fresh snow to moisten his mouth. It had only made him more thirsty, however.

"Who are you?" His tongue was so thick he was surprised it could push the words out through his chapped lips. They weren't intelligible even to his own ears.

"You will die here if you stay. Come with me," the girl responded.

Justin had learned to trust his instincts. This child was no weapon. And she was right. Although the snow wasn't deep, the air was bitterly cold and the land was pretty much barren. His rations were gone and there was little chance of finding anything edible in this naked terrain. He would die if he stayed here. Painfully, Justin stood and followed the young girl.

He had no idea where they were going, but the girl talked incessantly as she deftly made her way past rocks and boulders in their path. Her name was Zufash and she was eleven, she told him in Ashkun. He'd learned many of the dialects that dotted this part of the world. It was one of his primary talents and one the Army used often. Ashkun, he knew, was a dialect particularly relegated to the northern provinces of Afghanistan. He was a bit surprised to hear is so fluently spoken this far south, in Kunar. He felt warmed by the smile and giggle given to him when he responded to her in her own tongue.

"I'm Justin," he said. "And I hope you know where we're going, Zufash."

She giggled again, a particularly girlish sound that seemed alien in these beautiful, stark surroundings. "I know many things, Soldier. Where I am going is but one of the many."

Justin shook his head and laughed out loud. Only a few hours ago, he'd been sure he would die pressed against the rocky slopes of the mountain. Now he was being led on some puzzling trek by a precociously flirtatious eleven-year-old Afghan girl. Brian, he knew, would laugh his ass off at the irony when he told him.

For the first time in days, Justin actually felt a bubble of hope that he'd get that chance.

* * *

_Journal entry date - Tuesday, November 26, 2013_

_Sunshine,_

_Another day with my phone in hand and you haven't called. I hope you know there will be corrective measures taken regarding this little lapse on your part. You do know that, right?_

_Your Col. Trent came by today. We drank my scotch and smoked his Cubans. Don't worry, I'm airing out the place for you._

_I'm... glad he was here, Justin. I'm falling apart and I don't fucking like that feeling. You know I pretty much hold it as dogma that Brian Taylor-Kinney does_ not _cry. Well this little stunt you've pulled has shot that all to hell. But he was good. I see why you thrived under his wing at the academy. He's a good man._

_We talked about you. He told me a few things I didn't know. (And again, don't worry, Sunshine. I only told him the sanitized version of what I know about you. I'm keeping the 'true and uncut tales' purely for me. And I pray to every god that's ever been prayed to that we have a lifetime of tales to add to that library. I can't exist on just what I have... Promise me? You have to promise me that much, Sunshine. I'm not asking for much... just a lifetime. Okay?) The Colonel let it slip that you dabbled with a more... traditional... partner in your misguided youth. A_ girlfriend _at the academy, Justin? You_ have _to come back now, if just to give me details on that. And I need to know all those other things we've never talked about. Everything. I want that lifetime, Justin, to find out everything about you. About us._

_I need you, Justin. That marriage thing? It wasn't just for the army perks. It was for_ me _. I don't give a shit about your pension or whether I can buy condoms at the PX, Jus. I wanted it. But to make it work, you have to be around. Somewhere._

_I miss you, Justin Taylor-Kinney. And I need you. Still have my phone in my hand. Waiting..._

_B~_

* * *

"Dad?"

"Gus?"

"Is Cap coming home soon?"

The innocent question ripped at Brian's heart. He felt like he was walking a tightrope, trying to balance his panic about Justin's disappearance, his fear for his husband, with his need to protect his son. Gus had flownin from Toronto for Thanksgiving. No one had planned it, but Gus wanted to be with his father, needed to be as close to his Cap as he could be. When Brian found out the boy had been having panic attacks since hearing about Justin being MIA, he knew Gus should be here.

"Gus... I don't know. God, I just don't know." Brian reached over and pulled his son tightly to him.

At thirteen, Gus was a smaller version of his father. He still hadn't had that growth spurt that would one day make him taller than Brian, but all the signs were there. It would be coming soon. But, as adult as he pretended to be - as he one day promised to be - he was still just a thirteen year old boy who missed his Cap.

"They're looking for him, son. They'll find him." In truth, Brian's heart was shattering even more than it already had. God, he thought, pleaseplease let them find him soon.

"It's winter there, too, right? In Afghanistan?"

"Yeah. I believe it is, son."

Gus was silent for a long time as he clutched his father. "I hope he's warm enough, dad," he finally said. "His feet are always cold, you know?"

Brian held his son even tighter and let his dogma fail. Again.

* * *

The house was little more than a one room shack, but it was warm and protected from the weather. What would have been windows were now boarded over and covered in a type of oil-cloth. There was a low table in the corner of the room and a series of pallets resting against one another in a separate corner. Along the hearth wall, dried beans and nuts and grains stood on shelves in open jars.

Zufash pulled wood from a misshapen pile near the hearth and added it to the dying fire. She poured a bowl half full of water and handed it to Justin. He sat on the floor near the fire and drank, trying to remember not to guzzle it fast, but he was so fucking thirsty...

"Your belly will ache if you take too much," the girl admonished. Justin leaned back against the rock of the fireplace and closed his eyes.

He woke later, the aroma of onions and beans assaulting his nose, his stomach growling and his mouth watering. Justin watched eagerly as the young girl ladled out portions of the concoction from a heavy pot into a bowl, adding flat bread to the top and extending it to him with a shy smile. He'd never been this hungry in his life that he could remember, and as he ate, he knew it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"Where are your parents?" Justin asked later, as they sat quietly watching the fire. He'd come to the conclusion that Zufash was an angel, sent to rescue him from certain death. There was a strange mixture of childlike joy and aged resignation about her. She had, no doubt, seen far too much in her eleven years.

"With Allah," she quietly replied.

"You... are alone?"

Zufash laughed, "Soldier, I am with you." Justin smiled and nodded. This child was indeed an enigma. As they lay on pallets on opposite sides of the room that night, he heard her cry out for her mother. He let his heart cry out for Brian.

* * *

Brian stood with his arms around his son as they listened to Col. Trent on the phone. Jennifer and Molly were expected at any minute and he hoped this conversation would be over, with at least _something_ positive coming out of it, before they arrived.

"I understand, Lieutenant. I know you don't need to be reminded, but I'll tell you again, let Mr. Taylor-Kinney know immediately if you have any information. Keep him completely in the loop on this matter... You, too, Lieutenant." As he closed his phone, Col. Trent turned toward Brian and his son, his head shaking slightly. "Nothing new. Hell, nothing at all, yet."

"They are looking for him, aren't they, Sir?" The pain was evident in Gus' voice. The older man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I promise you, Gus, they are doing everything possible to find him. I _promise_ you that, son."

Gus nodded and wiped his face. "Dad, I'm gonna go to my room for a while."

Brian knew his son was hurting. Hell, they were all hurting beyond belief. It hadn't gotten one bit easier as the days dragged on. Here they were getting ready to celebrate Thanksgiving in a couple of days and Brian had to wonder just what the fuck they had to celebrate. Their hearts had been torn out and were being held hostage by a man lost in the Hindu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan, for chrissake. Until he was found and returned those hearts, nothing else really mattered much, as far as Brian was concerned.

He walked to Justin's window looking out toward the Hudson. On the river he could see a tanker with crates swinging from a hoist.

_Gus will get a kick out of watching the river traffic from here._

Justin had wanted this particular apartment for his family. _His_ family. To make _them_ happy. Gus loved Justin, nearly as much as he loved his father. Brian knew that. And Gus was a kid, dealing with shit that was almost too heavy for even Brian to bear. As he turned and saw Jennifer and Molly coming through the door he hugged them and whispered in Molly's ear. "I think Gus could use a dose of his Cap's little sis right about now." She kissed him on the cheek and nodded, then went to share her Justin with Gus.

Brian turned and watched the crates on the tanker hoist swinging. _I don't know how to do this, Sunshine. I don't know how to do this without you anymore._

* * *

He rested up the first morning as he watched Zufash hurry about, pulling in wood from a sparse pile outside to feed the fire, saw her cleaning her home as best she could. Justin's heart swelled as he noticed her carefully fold and place his things on the pallet where he spent the night. As he listened to her humming some tune as she worked.

She was almost the same age as Gus, but that's where the similarities ended. Gus was a privileged kid living in an industrialized nation, with all the opportunities that implies. Zufash was an adult far before her time, living in one of the poorest regions of one of the poorest nations in the world. A female in a culture that held little to no regard for them. In the middle of war. Alone.

Justin knew without some kind of miracle she would either be dead before she reached puberty or taken by some older man for his wife. Regardless of how she felt about it. In any event, her future looked pretty bleak.

Christ. _Get off your ass, Taylor-Kinney. That child is more of a soldier than you ever were, for chrissake._

Justin pulled on his gloves and got to work. There wasn't much he could do, but he could damn well remember who and what he was. And why he was here in the first place. By the time the sun started to set, painting the snow with it's fading colors, he done what he could to replenish the store of wood for Zufash's fires. He'd pulled grain from the storage boxes beside the shack and transferred it to refill the pots on the shelf beside the hearth. And he'd climbed atop the shack and painted on the roof with paint he'd made from dried flowers and berries. No, he couldn't leave a trail on the ground, but he could certainly leave _this_ message for someone in the air where hostiles were highly unlikely to know what it meant. He knew, however, that it was less than a sure thing that a lot of friendlies would figure it out, either. A very long shot - but one he had to take.

* * *

"You know I appreciate you being here, Colonel. You've been more of a help to me than you'll probably ever realize. But, shouldn't you be with Mrs. Trent today? With your daughters and grandchildren?" Brian did appreciate the man and the time they'd spent together. Having someone around who was so close to Justin, who cared about him like a son, and who also has some idea of what Brian was going through had helped him stay sane. But he also knew the sacrifice that the Colonel was making. Georgia Trent was failing fast, her mind and memories slipping away more and more every day as a result of the Alzheimer's. Missing any holiday with her had to be painful for this man.

"Every day with Georgia is a thanksgiving, Brian Kinney. We had to learn to make our own holidays since I was away for so many of the traditional ones. And there's not another young man in this world she's ever cared for more than Justin. Wherever her mind is right now, Justin and I are both there with her... and she'd want me to be here." There was a profound look of sadness on the man's face that no one missed. Tinged with an intense look of pride in his wife.

"I can't thank you enough, Col. Trent, for all you've done for Justin over the years, and for all you're doing for us now. You know how highly Justin thinks of both you and Georgia." Jennifer sat the sandwiches down and tightly gripped the older man's hand. None of them had any desire for a traditional feast today. "I just wish..."

"Me too, Mrs. Taylor. And he'll be here with us all. Soon. I believe that." It was the Colonel's turn now to grip her hand. "We've heard nothing negative. Let's be thankful for that."

No one had much to say after that. This was a harsh holiday for them all. Brian himself was only going through the motions for his son's sake, and for Jennifer's. Yes, he was thankful for his son, and for the support of all those here. Without Justin, however... without knowing if he was even alive... he could find very little reason to express thanks.

* * *

Justin listened to the young girl cry in her sleep. She cried every night yet managed to keep the smile on her face for him. He had the sinking feeling that it was because she was just happy to have another human being around her. For some reason she didn't feel any more threatened by him than he did by her. In this culture, that was a unique thing. Over the past few days, Justin had grown very fond of the young girl. He was amazed at her moral and emotional strength. At her ability to cope, and cope well, in the face of overwhelming challenges.

Like so many others in her country, Zufash wasn't a part of this war. She was just a kid trying to make it from one day to the next. It didn't matter to her who held governmental power. What mattered to her was whether the crops grew and how she could harvest them. What mattered was the death of her parents and struggling to survive alone at the age of eleven. What mattered to her was being true to the faith of her childhood. Without a political slant. Zufash had somehow found him in his hidden shelter and reached out in compassion to another human being. She didn't see an enemy. She saw a fellow soul in need and she acted. She had, effectively, saved his life, and Justin fully intended to do everything he could to save hers. He just wasn't sure what the hell he could do.

As he lay on the thin pallet, feeling the warmth of the fire and hearing the pain of a child's nightmares, he heard a shout and the undeniable sounds of rotors in the air. The door slammed open and he heard Zufash scream.

"The fuck?" Justin cried as he scrambled to reach his weapon.

"Halt! U. S. Army!" came the shout from the doorway. Justin nearly wept with relief even as he stared at the weapons now directed at them.

"Cpt. Justin C. Taylor-Kinney, U.S.Army, Special Forces," he shouted in response, his arms raised and his weapon now laid at his side. "She's a friendly," he added quickly, nodding toward Zufash.

"Put your weapons down, guys," the voice ordered. "Christ, Taylor. What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, taking a little vacation in the middle of a mission?" The familiar voice was filled with relief.

"It's about time you showed up, Stearns. I was beginning to wonder if you needed retraining in tracking, you son-of-a-bitch." The relief in Justin's own voice was obvious.

"Maybe if you'd painted something more identifiable on the roof we'd have been here sooner. The West Point mascot, Taylor? Jesus."

Justin heard Zufash crying. "I need to go to her, Stearns. She's only a kid." Justin reached Zufash and knelt in front of her, letting her know everything was okay.

"Hurry it up, Taylor. The chopper won't maintain long in this wind," Cpt. Stearns called out.

"She's coming with us."

"The fuck she is. She's staying here."

Zufash was trembling. She couldn't understand the language the men were speaking. She'd been awakened from a deep sleep to men invading her home. Justin could tell she was terrified. "She saved my life, Stearns. Literally saved my fucking life. She's eleven years old and completely alone. I'm _not_ leaving her behind."

"Jesus Christ. Do-gooders," Stearns huffed. "At ease, men," he added. "You better hurry the fuck up, then." He sighed, then shook his head and snorted. "Yeah, well, make sure she dresses warm. It's colder than a whore's heart out there."

Justin chuckled. "And you'd be the one to know the exact temperature of a whore's heart, Stearns." He turned to the frightened young girl. "Zufash, these men are soldiers, like me. They aren't going to hurt you. But I can't leave you here. I just can't leave my young friend alone like that."

Zufash watched Justin's eyes as he begged her to come with them. He wouldn't force her to leave her home, her memories. But, hell, he didn't want to leave her here alone. She was terrified. He knew that. But... "Please, Zufash. You saved my life. I don't want you to be alone here." She nodded, slowly.

"I'll go, Soldier." She held his hand and stood.

* * *

They all looked at each other when they saw the military identification on the caller ID. Brian took a deep breath and held it as he reached for the phone. _Not today_ , they each thought. Jennifer and Molly clutched tightly to each other as Col. Trent and Gus held their breath.

"Yes." Brian's voice cracked on the word, the only thing he was able to say before his knees buckled. Gus caught his father, and fearing the worst from the man's reaction, he buried his face into Brian's chest and sobbed.

"Oh, god," Brian said. "Justin? Oh Christ, _Justin_! You're okay? You're okay." Then he laughed as he cried. "It's about _time_ you fucking called me, you twat!"

Brian was suddenly thankful for every damn thing in the world.

* * *

Justin stood in front of his window looking out over the Hudson River, watching the lights on the boats near the harbor. He rested his chin on Gus' shoulder and squeezed the boy tightly. In the weeks since his return, Justin had dealt with a lot of guilt, misplaced as it may have been, about the stress his family and friends went through over Thanksgiving week. They'd all nearly begged Lindsay to let Gus to return to New York so he could be with his Cap over Christmas.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, it is cool. Don't even have to stand in the cold," Gus replied.

"I heard from Zufash today, by the way. She's starting school in a couple of weeks." Things had worked out well on that front. An aunt had come forward to accept the young girl into her family. Thankfully, the family was progressive and lived in a more progressive area in Pakistan. Both husband and wife were teachers and could offer Zufash not only a home, but an education and opportunities for a more fulfilling future. And they were, at least for now, keeping their promise to let the girl remain in contact with Justin.

"Ugh. Poor kid. She's lucky she never had to go before." Gus had heard all about Zufash and how she rescued Cap. He was thankful to her, but, being the teenager he was, he also felt a bit of jealousy at the bond she'd formed with Justin. He had a bit of a hard time understanding the cultural differences between here and there, as well. It seemed like a story to him.

"Gus, she saved my life. She didn't have to, and it was dangerous for her to do that. If she hadn't found me, I most likely would have died over there. I admire her. I'm grateful to her. I like her. I will do everything I can to make her life wonderful. But that doesn't mean I love you any less. You know that, right?" Justin understood some of what Gus was feeling. He and Gus shared a bond that was special, different from what the boy shared with his father. But there was something else that Gus was dealing with that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Yeah, I know."

"If she hadn't found me, hadn't led me to her home, I would have never shared this with you." Justin motioned toward the Festival of Lights through the window. "She gave me the best gift I've ever received. A future with you and your dad. And... the chance to do _this_!" He reached down and loudly kissed Gus' cheek.

"Jeeze, quit that, will ya? That's just gross, Cap." Gus wiped at his cheek, but there was a grin on his face. Justin laughed.

"Are... are you going to adopt her? Zufash?"

_Ahh_ , Justin thought, _the puzzle is beginning to make sense_. "No, Gus. That's not going to happen. Zufash needs to be with people who love her - and I do. But she also needs to be with a family who shares her beliefs and values. She's lost a lot in her young life - her parents, her childhood, her home... It wouldn't be right to make her give up anything else. She's with a good, open-minded family now, who'll treat her as a valuable person and let her learn and grow and still be part of her own culture." He placed his chin back on Gus' shoulder. "I'll always be her friend, but I'll never be her dad."

Gus cleared his throat. "Can you... um... can you be mine?"

"You want me to be your dad?" Justin's heart was thumping strangely. He had begun to think of himself as Gus' father, but to know _Gus_ wanted that from him was... terrifying, elating, wonderful.

"Yeah. Well, you know. You and dad are married, and... um..."

"You are one smart kid, Gus. And you make a hell of a dad, Sunshine." Brian had been standing in the archway listening to the two. And, damn, he was proud of them both. He knew he loved Justin, but he'd never known just how much until faced with the very real possibility that he'd lose him. And Gus loved him just as much, in his way. Justin had a particular talent for talking to Gus that Brian could never master. Justin was, after all, a beneficiary of Jasper Trent's talents.

"So, what do you say, Mr. Taylor-Kinney? Would you be my co-parent for life?" He pulled Justin to him and simply held him. Something he'd taken to doing a lot since Justin returned from Afghanistan. "I hear it's easier if we tag-team him."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Great, gang up on the little kid," he said with a touch of Kinney snark as he headed for his room.

"As for you, young Justin, I think we have a lifetime of true and uncut memories to continue making?"

Justin smiled widely and laid his forehead against Brian's. Such a simple gesture. Such a fulfilling one.

A lifetime would be good. Very, very good.

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo Credit: The mountain photo was taken by David Elmore USA.
> 
> http://publicintelligence.net/afghan-landscapes/#comments
> 
> CAO - Casualty Assistance Officer  
> MRE - Meals Ready to Eat
> 
> All information regarding the requirements for same-sex spouses in the military is drawn directly from military websites and notifications directed to the military from Secretary McHugh's office. The repeal of DOMA changed a few things, which I tried to incorporate into the story accurately.

**Author's Note:**

> It took nearly nine months after the important date in this story for this to be written. Suffice it to say, as I was going through some old files on my computer, I ran across a news article I had saved, and... well... the rest is their story.
> 
> Standard disclaimer. I own nothing here but the love.


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